Darkness There, and Nothing
by LA Knight
Summary: A single light in the darkness, a single whisper in the silence... what is it worth? How much blood should be spilled to protect it? Would it be worth damning your own soul? Takes place before, during, and after The Avengers.
1. Mea Culpa, Sea Culpa

_**Author's Note**__: so this idea came to me in a dream, which normally doesn't work for me, but this time it did. Yay! So here's the first chapter of my Loki fic. I hope you guys enjoy what I've got planned. Let me know what you think. Hugs!_

_**Soundtrack**__: I got the idea for a soundtrack from the genius Alydia Rackham. I don't normally tell people what I listened to for a fic, but it worked for her, so why not? For the first scene, I listened to "Knowing You by Heart" from_ The Little Princess _(1993) __and "Love Theme" from_ The Dark Crystal. _For the second scene of this fic, I listened to "Here without You" by Three Days Grace, "Dark Waltz" as sung by Jackie Evancho and Haley Westenra (separately), "First Snow" from the film_ The Fountain, _and "Skyfall" by Adele (not necessarily in that order)._

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**Darkness There, and Nothing…**

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**Prologue****  
****Mea Culpa, Sea Culpa**

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Thor strode to the long table in the currently empty Great Hall—empty, that was, save for his mother. The lamplight burnished her long hair as it tumbled about her shoulders, reflected off the slender golden chain about her throat. The moment Thor's boot-steps echoed off the smooth stone floor, Frigga turned to her firstborn with beseeching eyes.

"Well?" His mother asked softly when the Asgardian prince settled onto the bench beside her. She reached out and clasped his large hand with her slender one. "Did you learn anything? You two have always been so close; did he say anything to you?"

The prince bit back a sigh. His mother and brothers had asked him to take on the heavy task of spying on Loki, his foster brother, in an attempt to discern something in regards to what Loki had done on Midgard and before, in Asgard, during the king's time in the Odinsleep. After receiving bizarre reports of the second prince's behavior over the last few months, the king and queen had deemed it prudent to discover more—if it was possible. So they had sent Thor.

"He…spoke to me," Thor murmured. Which was fairly astonishing in and of itself. Loki hadn't said a word to anyone in the nine months he'd been imprisoned in Odin's dungeons, except to make a few innocuous requests of Frigga. "But the things he said…" Thor shook his head. _It's your fault, damn you! Yours…and mine…_"I did not understand him."

Frowning, Frigga took both her son's hands in hers and gently squeezed. "Tell me what happened, dearest. Perhaps I might be able to make sense of things."

Loki had always been close to their mother, Thor acknowledged silently. Perhaps she had the right of it. Clearing his throat, Thor began, "I went to the dungeons as we'd agreed. All was silent, except for the sound of a pencil against paper…"

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Scritch-scritch-scritch.

_The gentle scrape of charcoal against parchment was the only sound in the vast corridor, save for the crackling of the torches in their wall sconces and the snap of flames in the hearth of one of the cells._

_Most prisoners of Asgard's king couldn't lay claim to a fireplace, or a sumptuous bed draped in emerald and black, or a table with a blown-glass oil lamp. Most prisoners weren't given books, sheaves of paper, bottles of ink, the finest quill pens, and sticks of charcoal to amuse themselves with during the long days of their captivity._

_But then, most prisoners weren't Loki Odinson, second prince of Asgard._

_Thor watched Loki from the shadows beyond the torchlight. His younger adopted brother bent industriously over the black-wood table, sketching something. Dark brows knitted together, lips pressed into a thin white line, Loki worked almost feverishly at a drawing his brother couldn't see. Pale fingers grasped the stick of charcoal so forcefully that Thor was surprised it didn't snap in his grip._

_Loki leaned closer to the table, his hair spilling like ink over his shoulders and across his brow. The Asgardian noticed that his younger brother had actually bitten his lower lip so hard in concentration that a pearl of blood had risen up on the flesh._

_Suddenly Loki stopped, jerking to a halt as if frozen. He stared down at the sketch, brow furrowed, face utterly bloodless. Emerald eyes blazed with something that might have been madness…or anguish. The charcoal pencil fell from his fingers to hit the floor. He swallowed audibly; Thor heard it even from where he stood. A trembling fingertip stretched out to caress down the length of the parchment in a strange pattern._

_Thor frowned. The guards had spoken to Odin and Frigga about this odd behavior, and neither king nor queen could account for it. Balder, Tyr, Víðarr, and Hermod had considered it Thor's duty—as the eldest—to investigate. So here he was, and the utter desolation on Loki's face astonished him. The guards had said nothing about_ that. _What was the drawing of—what_ could _it be of—that it moved Loki this way? Thor was about to open his mouth to call out to his little brother, forgetting momentarily the need for silence and secrecy, when Loki lunged to his feet, snatched up the drawing, and making three quick strides to the hearth, cast it into the flames. Then he half-crouched, half-fell before the fireplace to watch the paper burn to ash and smoke._

_"What do they know of darkness?" Loki rasped to the fire. One hand lay on his knee, gripping so tight his knucklebones stood out stark against the flesh. "What do they know of the choking blackness of the void? What do they know of isolation? Nothing." He bowed his head. A tremor shivered through his tall, lean frame. "Nothing at all."_

_"Loki?" Thor could remain silent no longer. Stepping from the shadows of the prison corridor into the sienna light of the flickering torches, he approached the transparent ensorcelled glass that separated his younger brother from the outside world._

_Loki's head whipped around. Something savage flashed across the pale face before the pseudo__-Æsir __smoothed his features to careful blankness. He rose slowly to his feet. The blackness of his shirt and trousers, with only the deep emerald green tunic to alleviate the darkness, made him seem even paler than normal. Almost sickly. Loki arched one knife-thin black brow at his foster brother._

_"Come to keep me company, Brother?" A small smile played at the corner of Loki's mouth. "Come to ease my loneliness?"_

_Thor scowled. Any touch of sympathy or concern he'd felt evaporated like night mist in the morning sun at his brother's words. "Do not mock me, Loki. I came merely to see what mischief you might be getting up to."_

_Slender but powerful shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Another coup, as you can plainly see," his younger brother replied with a familiar—and irritating—smirk. "Even within the walls of the stoutest prison, a man can conquer the world." A shadow appeared to flit across emerald eyes. Loki's arrogance seemed to falter, and the smirk wilted at the edges. "Yes…with loyalty and conviction, or even merely with desperation at his side…or perhaps madness…"_

_"Don't pretend you're being clever," Thor snapped. There was something about Loki's words that left him unsettled. He let that unease morph into anger buzzing like hornets in his blood. "What would_ you _know of loyalty?"_

_With another mercurial shift of temper, the other prince spun on his heel with a wordless snarl and paced the length of his cell. Every movement snapped and jerked with edgy tension. Thor suppressed another surge of unease. Until his incarceration here in Asgard, Loki had never been so…changeable. So quick to spin from one mood to another. When rage had taken him in the past, there had always been a build-up, some signs of warning. Not this rabid fury that seemed to spring from nowhere._

_Perhaps the Midgardian known as Banner had been right all those months ago when he'd claimed Loki was mad. Like a bag of cats, he'd said. And mayhap Loki_ had _truly succumbed to actual madness…_

Desperation…or perhaps madness…

_"What do I know of loyalty?" Loki asked softly. Rage—and something else, something dark and cold and terrible, something Thor did not wish to examine too closely—gave the mild words a razor's edge. "When have I ever stolen something truly precious to you, Brother?"_

_"You tried to kill me_, Brother. _I deem my life very precious, thank you."_

_To his amazement—and fury—Loki scoffed at the accusation._

_"Let us say I did," Loki hissed, reminding Thor that his brother had never actually_ admitted _that he'd tried to kill the crown prince during his exile to Midgard. "What of it? It was a conflict betwixt the pair of us, no one else."_

_Now it was Thor who scoffed. "So those innocent people whose homes you destroyed—"_

_Loki held up a sharp finger. "Homes, you said. Was anyone killed?"_

_Thor lifted a brow and folded his arms across his broad chest_. "I _was. The Destroyer's blow broke my neck. If not for Mjölnir's returning to my hand, I would have died. What say you to that?"_

_"I say that my point has been made: I attacked you, and no other_ person. _The Destroyer only attacked Sif and the Three because they sought to interfere with it, which_ you _allowed_. I _kept the combat between the two of us. I never killed someone in an attempt to get at you. I kept it between the pair of us, involving no one else!"_

"I _involved no one else!" Thor protested._

_"Liar!" Loki roared suddenly, with enough venom that Thor actually stepped back from him. The guards shifted restlessly. Thor tried to speak, but now whatever words had been festering inside his brother spewed forth, and would not be halted by anything Thor could do._

_"It's_ your _fault, damn you! Your fault the Chitauri…" Loki dropped back against the white stone wall of his prison and slumped to the floor, defeat etched in every line of his face, every angle of his body. "Your fault…and mine. The slaughter, the pain, all that innocent blood…all of it for naught, and all because you couldn't let me alone."_

_Thor took a single step toward his brother. His shaking hands convulsed into fists. Rage and disbelief twined together in a thorny tangle in his breast. "Let you alone? Let you_ alone?" _Thor's voice rose to a leonine roar with every word. "Let you butcher helpless Midgardians, slaughter countless innocents, so that you, in your arrogance and callous disregard for life, could rule Midgard? I should have let you destroy an entire world, all so that you could be their king?"_

"No!" _Loki roared back, surging to his feet. Wild-eyed, the prince yelled, "I was trying to_ save them!"

_"Save who? The Midgardians? You mowed them down without a thought, without one regret!" Venom had been building up in Thor as well. He didn't know how long it had been fermenting inside him—since learning of Loki's betrayal? His attempt to steal the Asgardian throne? Since he'd murdered Coulson?—but he would spill that poison now, and let Loki drink it to the dregs. "You're a liar, a murderer, a traitor! You attempted to save no one except yourself_, Laufeyson!" _Loki jerked, recoiling as if he'd been stabbed. "Who were you trying to save, and for what?" Thor demanded, voice dripping derision. "Hmmm? Answer me if you can! And tell the truth for once!"_

_At first he thought Loki would fly at him, attempt to hurl some spell despite the transparent shielding protecting him and dampening Loki's magic. For several heartbeats, a twisted expression of half-mad—rage? Pain? Turmoil?—twisted Loki's face. His eyes burned green as rushlights at twilight. But he didn't try to attack his foster brother. Instead, he merely trudged back to the table and slumped heavily into the chair. He dropped his head into his hands. Sighed._

_"Yes…I know I am a murderer, Brother. How well I know it. Do I despise myself for it? Do I mourn the blood on my hands?" Loki lifted his head, draping his arms across his thighs. His hands dangled limply between his knees. He scoffed softly at his brother. "You've already decided that. What hope is there of changing your mind? I tell you there is none. And a liar…so is the man you and I both called 'Father,' yet you don't hold it against him. As for treachery, well, my loyalty belongs to another. That's all there is to it, I'm afraid."_

_"To who?" Thor demanded. "To Thanos?"_

_A bitter, humorless smile twisted Loki's mouth. "No. He will die one day, by my hand, for what he did to…" The anguished expression he'd worn when studying the burned drawing returned. Something cold pulsed like an ache in Thor's chest. What made his little brother look like that? "…to them," Loki concluded in a voice that was nearly a whisper._

_Baffled now, the anger draining away to leave him slightly numb and out of breath, the golden-haired prince demanded, "To who, Loki? Who are you talking about?"_

_When Loki lifted his head to look at Thor, Thor found himself speechless. The look of bitter, icy hate in his brother's eyes was like a blow to the belly. Even in the midst of their battles on the Bifröst and Stark Tower, there had never been this deathly-cold loathing in his little brother's eyes._

_"Your ignorance excuses nothing," Loki spat. "Their blood is still on your hands. On the hands of Thanos and his Other. And," here his voice dropped to a broken rasp, "and on my own." Turning from his bewildered audience, he added softly, "I know my sins well. They are carved into my flesh and bones. Go from me, Thor. Torment me no longer."_

_"Loki…"_ _But his brother did not turn back. Feeling as if something vital was even now slipping from his grasp, Thor murmured, "I will be back to finish this later, Brother. I will expect an answer to my question." With an oddly heavy heart, the crown prince turned and strode away._

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Bewildered, Frigga listened to her son's recitation to the end. Shook her head.

"I…I don't know what he could mean, _who_ he could mean." Tracing the silky smooth grain of the table with the tip of one finger, frowning, she shook her head again. "I cannot fathom what Loki means, except that…perhaps he somehow blames you for the deaths of the Midgardians during the conflict."

Thor scowled. "It was hardly _my_ fault he decided to invade with an army of savage Chitauri ready to slaughter anyone they came across. He'd have to be mad to blame me for _that_."

In a voice as soft as falling snow, Frigga murmured, "Perhaps…perhaps he truly is mad."

The scowl melted from Thor's face and he sighed. Pressing his mother's hand in tender reassurance, he said, "Don't worry, Mother. I will go back to him tomorrow and see if he'll speak to me again. Maybe we can discover something."

"What hope is there for Loki, Thor?"

He didn't know. But if there _was_ hope for his brother, Thor vowed silently that he would find it.

_TBC_

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_Author's Note: so…that's my prologue. What do you guys think? Let me know! I love reviews/critiques, and I love to hear from my readers._

_Just so we're clear, although no obvious female love interest appears in this first chapter, I just want to be clear that this fic is_ not _slash. I'm trying some very new, very different things for me with this fic. So the female protagonist and love interest is more of a secondary character and my main focus will be on Loki's point of view (and Thor as an outside observer looking in)._

_Have a nice day, you guys! Hugs to everyone!_

_Concerning the Titles: The chapter title refers to two things—the song "Hellfire" in Disney's_ The Hunchback of Notre Dame, _and the Latin phrase used in that song. "Mea Culpa" literally means "my mistake," and "sea culpa" means "your mistake," but it can also be translated as "my fault"/"your fault." So the title of the prologue is literally "My Fault, Your Fault." The title of the fic is a quote from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." It actually goes something like, "Here I flung wide the door…Darkness there, and nothing more."_


	2. Let Go of the Truth… This Is Just a Game

_**Author's Note**__: well, so I don't normally post another chapter so quickly, but the response I got for this fic was really positive, so I thought I'd reward you with the first official chapter (since the last chapter was a prologue). So here we go with chapter one! I hope you guys like it. Hugs for everyone!_

_Oh, and thankwbss21for their AMAZING reviews, because they inspire me to write and make me feel_ really _good about myself. So thanks to them, and you guys should thank them to. Tata!_

_Soundtrack: so for the first scene, I listened to "Assassin's Creed III" and "Song of the Caged Bird" by Lindsey Stirling, and "Into the Open Air" from Disney's_ Brave. _For the first half of the second scene, I listened to "Dance Me to the End of Love" by The Civil Wars, "The Girl in the Garden" by SJ Tucker, and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler. For the second half of the second scene, I listened to, "Mad World" as sung by Adam Lambert, "Learn to Be Lonely" from_ The Phantom of the Opera_, __"__Skyfall" by Adele, "Love Theme" from_ The Dark Crystal, _"Simple and Clean" by Utada Hikaru, and "Journey to Fenland" from_ Snow White & the Huntsman.

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**Chapter One****  
****Let Go of the Truth…This Is Just a Game**

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Thor studied his wan reflection in the looking glass of his bedchamber, wondering what he was doing. Was he really going to go back to see Loki _again_? He'd been to visit his younger brother in the dungeons every day for the last two fortnights—ever since Loki's startling accusation that blood of _someone_, perhaps those Midgardians killed during the Chitauri invasion, was on Thor's hands as well as his adopted brother's—but Loki had said not a word since then. Thor had by turns pleaded, threatened, and cajoled, all to no avail. His brother would say nothing, _do_ nothing, while Thor was present in the dungeon corridor outside his cell. The moment Loki heard Thor coming, he would stop whatever he was doing and sit, silent and immobile, in a chair staring into the fire.

With a sigh, the son of Odin's blood leaned back on the bench where he sat until his head touched the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes wearily. Only the distant roar of the sea and the chirp of crickets singing farewell to the day broke the silence of his bedroom. It gave Thor the quiet he needed to think. What could he do this evening that he hadn't done over the last four weeks? What could coax Loki into explaining himself?

A soft knock at his door pulled Thor from his musings. Smoothing a hand over his hair, he called, "Enter." At his entreaty, Odin's youngest son stepped into the room. Immediately upon seeing Balder, some of Thor's tension eased.

"Good evening, Brother," Balder said softly, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

It still surprised Thor how his littlest brother had grown up. He stilled remembered when it had been little Balder running on his short child's legs in a hopeless effort to chase down Thor, Loki, Víðarr, and Tyr in an effort to join in on the revelries of the older princes. Now Balder was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, having already been blooded in battle, with the strength and bearing of one of Asgardian's warrior princes. He hadn't come of age yet, but no one doubted his courage or his strength.

"Good evening."

"Are you going to see Loki today?" Balder asked when Thor said nothing more. "Has he spoken again?" Thor shook his head, and Balder sighed. "Mother is certain you can do something with him where the rest of us have failed. What do you think?"

A small pain was beginning to throb behind the older Asgardian's left eye. Pressing his fingers to his forehead, Thor replied, "I know not what can be done with him, if anything. I don't even know if his words to me before have any bearing on his treachery, or if he seeks to play with my mind. I simply do not know. If _Mother_ can get nothing from him…" Thor shrugged almost helplessly. "I don't know."

Balder nodded, rubbing his chin. His glacier-blue eyes darkened with worry. "Well, I know one thing—do _not_ let Tyr near him again, or there may be bloodshed."

Thor arched an eyebrow. "He's in prison. And Tyr is not so foolish as to let Loki goad him into breaking into his cell in order to—"

"Loki is not the one goading Tyr," Balder interrupted. Thor's brow furrowed. "Tyr is attempting to get information from our brother by taunting him into a fit of temper. He will catch Loki drawing…whatever it is he is constantly drawing, and demand to know what it is. He will deliberately provoke him, yet Loki has yet to respond overtly. I sense trouble brewing if Tyr is allowed to continue his jibes."

"Have you spoken to Father about this?"

The younger prince nodded. "You know how he is. He does not wish to hear anything about Loki. His guilt, you know…and his disappointment. For now, I think Father will let Mother deal with the problem of our wayward brother. And you know Tyr never listens to Mother."

The sigh that came from Thor then seemed to hold all the weight he felt down to his very bones. Things had been so simple that long ago day when Odin had been ready to hand the throne of Asgard to his eldest son—the son who, Thor could admit now, hadn't been ready for kingship then. When had the world become so tangled? Was it merely Loki's discovery of his true parentage? Or was it more?

Perhaps today would be the day his brother gave him some answers. Trying to hold onto that slim, flickering hope, Thor rose to his feet, bade his youngest brother goodbye, and went to visit Loki.

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Loki was drawing again. Thor had made sure to keep as silent as possible when drawing night his brother's cell this time, and Loki was distracted enough by his task that he didn't seem to notice Thor's stealthy approach through the shadows of the corridor. The prince took a moment to observe Loki from the safety of those shadows.

Every move his brother made was fraught with an electric, frenetic energy. His emerald eyes burned as they darted over the paper. His face was nearly bloodless, and a bright crimson drop stood out against Loki's mouth again. The hand holding the charcoal sketching stick practically flew across the page as if on demonic wings. Loki's breath came in half-choked little gasps.

Suddenly, as before, he stopped. He stared at the drawing as if searching for something, some miniscule detail on which hung the very fate of the cosmos. Wrinkles formed between his thin, dark brows as they knitted together. The pale lips moved soundlessly. It took Thor a long moment to realize his brother was mouthing the word "no" over and over again; that and another word he couldn't quite make out from the shape of Loki's mouth.

A look of helpless confusion flitted across his brother's wan face, followed swiftly by anger edged with what might have been despair. Loki dropped his face into the cup of one hand. He crushed the charcoal stick in his other; it broke in half with a muffled _snap_. The pieces clattered to the table top and rolled slowly over the smooth surface before slipping off and falling to the floor. Loki's empty fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his hand visibly shook. He pressed it hard against the table until Thor heard the wood creak.

At last Loki lifted his head to stare once more with broken eyes at the drawing. "Memory fades so swiftly," Loki breathed. "Why can I not remember something so simple? Something so vital? Surtur's blade…_why_ can I not _remember?"_

He clamped his lips together. Squeezed his eyes shut. His face contorted as if in pain. With a muffled, wordless cry he snatched up the picture and crumpled it into a ball. He surged to his feet—unsteadily, Thor noticed. Stalking to the sullen fire, Loki made as if to cast the drawing into the flames…but then he hesitated. With trembling fingers he unfolded the crumpled drawing; gazed down at it with a blank face, though his eyes were alive, alight with something like desperation.

Loki took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, with a shudder. He shook his head. "No," Loki said softly. "No. It isn't right. It will not…serve." With those opaque words, the other prince balled the paper up again, but he moved as if it were the hardest thing he had ever done. And instead of hurling the paper into the flames, he held out his hand, palm up, and let the drawing slip from his grasp to land in the fire.

While the paper crackled and burned, Loki leaned his forearm against the fireplace mantel. Swallowed audibly. Then he leaned his forehead against his arm. His shoulders slumped. He raised a fist and thumped it once against the marble mantel.

Thor could bear it no longer. As before, the prince stepped into the light. "Loki."

His brother didn't turn around, which Thor had half-expected, half-dreaded. He hadn't expected Loki to mutter, "Why have you come back here, Thor? What do you want of me?"

"Are you…all right?" He couldn't forget the haunted—and haunting—look on his little brother's face.

But to his incredulous irritation, Loki turned to him with that smirk twisting his features. He laughed openly at Thor. "Am I all right? Brother, I'm in prison. I mean no offense, of course, but that's a stupid question."

Fury washed through the prince. "Forgive my foolishness. Of course civilities are wasted on common criminals."

That smirk carved deeper across Loki's face. The once-anguished eyes twinkled with mocking amusement. Had Thor only imagined the sorrow in Loki's face before he'd burned the drawing? Surely not…but there was no trace of any deep emotion in the other prince now as he chuckled and replied, "Your wit hasn't improved while I've been imprisoned, Brother. Is that why you've come today? To attempt to sharpen that rapier wit?"

In that moment Thor came to a decision. He'd avoided confronting Loki flat out about the drawings themselves, instead asking about the things he'd said the last time they'd spoken. He hadn't wished to see that look of vicious pain on his little brother's face again. But he would not stand here and be mocked for his trouble, either. If Loki wished to contest with him, Thor would strike at his heart.

"Were you not satisfied with this latest drawing, little brother?" Thor asked casually, striding toward the ensorcelled glass that separated him from his foster brother. "Did it not please you?"

The effect on Loki was immediate: what little color that had come back into his face while verbally sparring with Thor drained away, his eyes snapped wide, tension gripped his entire body, and his lips parted slightly as if he'd been stunned. Then he seemed to recover himself. Pressing his lips together, he glared at Thor. His gaze was like a jade knife.

"That is none of your concern."

"Oh?" Thor shrugged. "It was a simple question, Loki." When his little brother said nothing, Thor narrowed his eyes. "I'll get answers out of you eventually, little brother. You cannot put me off forever."

Loki scoffed. "Oh, can't I? Don't you have better things to do? Primping in front of the mirror for your little mortal, for example? I hear the Bifröst will be fully repaired in but a year's time. Surely you want to look your best for her. Perhaps you should go and polish those feathers you call a helmet."

"Leave Jane out of this," Thor snapped. "You berate me for involving others in a conflict between us, then attempt to use her against me—"

"Hypocrite," Loki snarled softly. "So you're allowed to attempt to use my weaknesses against me, eh, Brother? But when I hit back with the same tactic, you cry foul?"

Through gritted teeth, the golden-haired prince said, "There is a vast difference between asking you a difficult question and threatening the woman I love. You will not harm Jane, Loki. So much as attempt it, and brother or no, I _will_ kill you. Do you understand?"

Eyes like sunlight through green glass flickered. "A difference? No, there really isn't. Not in the end," Loki murmured, and once again Thor had the impression of trying to catch something precious but elusive in his grasp. Then his brother shook off whatever melancholy had softened his demeanor and smirked at Thor. "Besides, I never threatened her. I once said that I _might_ pay her a visit, but that was merely to goad you into doing what I wanted. Even you should have been able to see that, despite your thick skull. And I wasn't threatening her just now, either. Merely proving a point. I can put you off for eternity if need be. You may as well give up whatever futile quest you've come here on and leave me in relative peace."

"It was a simple question, Loki. Were you displeased with the drawing? Forgetting a detail, perhaps?" As Thor spoke, Loki's lips pressed tighter and tighter together. The cocky smirk had vanished like a ghost. "Something you can't remember interfering?"

Voice hoarse and strained, the pseudo-Asgardian hissed, "You were _listening_. Spying on me!"

Thor's shrug was completely unapologetic. "My only recourse," he said, "when you refuse to tell me what I wish to know."

Loki's face went blank. In a carefully neutral tone, the disguised Frost Giant said, "Very well. I was not satisfied with the drawing. It is difficult to draw something so detailed from memory. Mistakes are often made. Satisfied?" The last word was spat as if it were poison.

"What were you drawing?"

Loki's expression hardened. "Getting a bit greedy, aren't we?" Thor merely shrugged…and waited. He kept his eyes trained on Loki as his brother glared at him with that same icy hatred Thor had seen before, the loathing that frosted Thor's blood and squeezed his heart like King Laufey's own bitter-cold fist. Finally Loki said, "There is nothing in all the Nine Realms that you could offer that would compel me to tell you."

After a carefully measured pause, Thor asked, "What about your freedom?"

His brother laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Only bitterness like wormwood. "My freedom is not in your power to give. Nor," he added sharply, "is it within the purview of the All-Father. Not my true freedom. No one can give me that." His voice dropped low, almost musing. "The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Odin could devise."

"Why do you always throw your drawings into the fire?" Thor asked. He wanted to demand Loki explain himself, explain his words of fetters and guilt and innocent blood. Explain why nothing was worth his giving Thor the information he wanted. Instead he focused on the subject that seemed to draw Loki out of himself the most. "Why not keep them? Surely you do not despise your failures so much that they must be destroyed. I remember your skill with pencil and brush from when we were young. Even with small mistakes, the work would be well-done."

A sneer twisted Loki's face. "Because I know you want to see them, so I make sure you cannot. I delight in vexing you, Brother."

Thor scoffed. "You're acting like a child."

"Do _not_ speak to _me_ of children!" Loki roared suddenly. The fury blazing like viridian fire in his brother's gaze, the hatred searing in his voice, nearly made Thor step back. Taking a shaking step toward Thor, Loki shouted, "How _dare_ you? _How dare you?_"

"If you don't want me to call you a child," his older brother replied scathingly, using acid to mask his sudden unease, "don't act like one." Why, Thor wondered, had the juvenile insult enraged Loki so much? Here was another of those mercurial shifts in temper Loki had begun to display. What about the comment had enraged him this time? Was it simply that he was so proud, looked down on his elder foster brother so much, that he took grave insult if Thor said anything negative about him? It made no sense…

And Loki didn't reply to Thor's latest retort, either; only spun on his heel in a whirl of loose black material to glare at the fire as it slowly began to die. Silence stretched taut and heavy between the brothers. Finally Thor sighed. "Brother…I do not wish to fight with you. Why must you make this a battle?"

It took a few moments for Loki to respond. When he did, Thor was surprised by his words. "Do you know what it is to fight every moment of every day of your life? To see battles looming when others tell you there's nothing there, that you are merely imagining things? And then you have to fight them, knowing that nothing you do will ever end that conflict?" Loki shook his head, never taking his eyes from the flames. "When you live on a battlefield, you do not willingly remove even a single piece of your armor."

Thor took another step toward the enchanted glass barrier. He could feel the magic of it as soft prickles along his skin that made the golden hairs on his arms stand up, as a dull ache in his teeth. Ignoring it, he took yet another step. He took a breath.

"I have never harmed you, Loki, save in these recent battles. Why do you think I seek to hurt you?"

"You've already dealt the fatal blow, Thor. Ever since you defeated me back on Midgard, I have been bleeding to death from it. I suppose it's too much trouble to mourn my death a second time," Loki added bitterly. "You've already held my funeral once. Why waste time with a second? What do you think Odin and Frigga will do when I die of this wound, hmmm? Throw my corpse to the pigs?"

Bile rose in Thor's throat; he swallowed it back. In a carefully neutral voice, he said, "If you died, Brother, our mother and father would surely mourn, as they did before. Mother was inconsolable after you fell from the Bifröst. She wept for days. And if you were wounded, the healers would tend you faithfully…if you allowed it."

Loki's laugh was almost poisonous as it rattled in his chest. "Tend me? This is not a wound that can be tended, Brother. You have carved out my heart the way the deaths on my conscience have carved into my bones. As a heartless monster I now stand before the crown prince of Asgard, vainly trying to remember what it was to possess a heart capable of breaking. You have killed me as surely as I killed Laufey. Yet I forgive you for _that_."

Noting his younger brother's emphasis, Thor asked, "If you forgive any injury I've done you, then what is it you despise me for, Loki? Whatever wrong I have done you, I am sorry. But it was not wrong of me to stop you from conquering Midgard."

"Well, whatever helps you sleep at night, _Brother_," Loki snarled. "Are you blind? You come here and ask your questions, and in the same breath deny the answers. Why should I tell you anything? It will not cleanse your conscience, or mine."

"You cannot blame me for the deaths of the Midgardians who were killed in the invasion," Thor snapped, losing patience. "Nor can you blame me for the guilt you supposedly feel over their blood."

His brother turned to sneer over his shoulder. "Right on the first point, but not the second. I don't blame you for their deaths…but _you_ are the reason their deaths were in vain. If you and your pathetic band of 'heroes' hadn't attempted to thwart me—"

"You blame me because the invasion failed?" Thor demanded, incredulously.

"Yes."

"And because it failed, those who died, died in vain?"

"Yes," Loki hissed.

"And your guilt stems from that and that alone?" Thor asked. When Loki hesitated, Thor's heart gave an odd lurch in his chest. A knot of confusion, anger, and concern twisted sharply in the pit of his belly. Thor shook his head in bewilderment. "Loki…what is it, exactly, that you condemn me for?"

Jade fire smoldered in his brother's eyes. "_Their_ deaths."

Thor remembered that Loki always chose his words with care, even when in a fury. _Their_ deaths. He had already said he didn't blame Thor for the deaths of the Midgardians, just the futility of them. So…"Who, Loki?" Thor asked softly. "Whose deaths?"

As if emerging from a dream, Loki blinked. Shook his head. "No. No, you'll not pull that confession from my lips. You don't deserve to hear their names."

Stunned, Thor gazed at his brother with wide eyes. Didn't deserve…? Someone Loki actually _cared_ for? For a moment, Thor wondered if Loki meant a woman. But no, he'd said _their_ names. But then, who could he mean? Thor shook his head. "How can I answer your accusation if you do not tell me their names?"

"Their names would mean nothing to you. Do not seek to try and refute my claim, Thor, for I know well where the blame for their deaths lies. Yes, with me, and I will carry that guilt for the rest of eternity, even unto death. It lies with that monster, Thanos, and his lieutenant. But most of all, it lies with _you_, Thor Odinson, and damn your soul to the bowels of Nifelheim!" Ashen, eyes glistening like wet blue-green jewels with what might have been the gloss of savagely enraged tears, Loki cried, "If not for you, they would yet be alive! _Damn you!_"

Then it seemed as if all the life drained from Loki's body. He fell to his knees on the floor, then sank down until only the wall kept him upright. He dropped his head against the cool stone. Closed his eyes. His breath came in great, heaving, shuddering gasps. His fingers knotted into fists so tight the knuckles burned white against the flesh. Thor watched Loki unclench his hands finger by finger; he ran his hands over his face and sighed.

At last Loki merely sat there, his hands clasped atop his head, elbows bracketing his face, eyes tightly closed. He did not move an inch. Did not make a sound. He only sat like that, and Thor could almost see the walls of ice that had so recently come down building up around him again.

Moved by instinct, Thor said softly, "Loki…I don't understand. Please, explain it to me."

Loki simply sighed. "Why should I bother? You won't listen."

"I will."

"You won't believe."

"I…" Thor hesitated, then pressed on. "I will try." When his brother said nothing, Thor added, "Loki, we used to trust each other. We used to protect each other. When did that change? It has not changed for me. You're my brother."

A small laugh. "I'm adopted, in case you've forgotten."

Thor scowled. "Do I look as if I give a damn?" To his surprise, Loki chuckled. "Loki, if I have earned my brother's enmity, I deserve to at least to know why. Tell me!"

Loki sighed again, then opened his eyes, which seemed oddly discolored by the light; almost blue. Dropping his arms to rest on his updrawn knees, he stared at the floor. His brow furrowed in thought. Was he considering Thor's offer? The Asgardian prince didn't wish to get his hopes up…but then Loki looked up at him. It felt as if someone had jabbed a needle of ice straight into Thor's heart. Slowly, Loki nodded.

"Yes…I suppose you deserve at least that. But it's late, Brother. So I will give you one reason, and you may come to collect the rest on the morrow." Loki closed his eyes again. "I suppose the guards have told you that I do not simply draw, but that I also write?"

Nonplussed by the abrupt change in topic, Thor nodded. "They did."

"Did they tell you _what_ I was writing?"

"They claimed not to know."

A ghost of a smile curled Loki's mouth. "I would imagine so. I'm careful enough. But I shall tell you, since you wish to know what sins have condemned you. I write letters, Thor. Letters to the dead. And I burn them because I was told once that if one wished to send a message to someone who has passed, the best way is to burn it, and the wind in the chimney will take the pieces up into the heavens." Loki's voice was soft, musing, with a weight of sadness that seemed to drag at his brother like iron shackles. "I know not whether it actually works. I can only pray so."

Thor swallowed, afraid of breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over his little brother, but at last he spoke softly. "I think, if the Creator is merciful, such tactics work well enough. But what has that to do with me?"

"Do you know who I'm writing to?"

"The dead," Thor replied, frowning. "You've said that."

Loki shook his head slowly. "Such a thick skull. It's a wonder you've lived this long. Which dead, Thor? All the dead? A handful? One in particular?" The other prince could only shake his head helplessly. A faint crease formed between Loki's brows. "I write to the ones whose deaths I lay at your feet. They are the ones I draw. But I said I would give you but one reason today, and so I shall. I will give you a name. And you can think on that name, turn it over in your mind, feel it settle around your heart as the guilt seeps into your soul."

There was a long silence. Thor could count his heartbeats, loud as war-drums in his ears. He watched as Loki's forehead wrinkled as if with some great strain. His eyes, closed and relaxed until now, squeezed tight. His fists were so tight, Thor's hands ached in sympathy. There would be bloody crescents in his little brother's palms later.

Finally Loki opened his eyes. To Thor's utter shock, his eyes were damp with tears. A single teardrop spilled from the corner of Loki's eye and roll down his pale cheek to drip off the end of his chin. He seemed paler than ever. Pale as death. His voice, husky with emotion, trembled.

"Her name was Thea. Now leave me in peace."

_TBC_

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_**Author's note**__: so…what do you guys think? How am I doing so far? I know it's not conventional to introduce a major influence at the end of the second chapter/installment (unless it's a villain) but like I said, I'm doing things a little different from the norm, so…yeah. Anywho, what do you guys think so far? Reviews are love, yes? And of course if you notice any typos, any plot issues, anything you don't like, blah-blah, let me know. Love you all!_


	3. All Is Illusion and Vain Fantasy

_**Author's Note**__: so here we are with the next chapter! Who's excited? Anyone besides me? And Sweetnsour333, where you goed? I haven't heard from you in ages! Where you goed? *ahem* Anyways, so some excitement in this chapter! We finally get to learn one of Loki's secrets. Yesssss, precioussss…we does, precioussss…_

_Oh, sorry, too much_ Hobbit _exposure. Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes, the soundtrack for this chapter._

_Soundtrack:__For the first scene, I listened to "Girl in the Garden" by SJ Tucker (it's beautiful, look it up on Youtube), "Gone" from_ Snow White & the Huntsman, _"My Love" by Sia from_ Twilight, _"Gelfling Song" from_ The Dark Crystal, _and "Stand in the Rain" by Superchic(k)._

_For the much longer second scene, I listened to (in this order): "First Snow" from_ The Fountain, _"Bourne Vivaldi" by The Piano Guys, "Moonlight" by the Piano Guys, "Taikatalvi (Instrumental)" by Nightwish, "Knowing You by Heart" from_ The Little Princess _and "Bella's Lullaby" from_ Twilight _(specifically when Loki interacts with the illusion), "Journey to Fenland" from_ Snow White & the Huntsman, _"Song of the Caged Bird" by Lindsey Stirling, and "Love Theme" from_ The Dark Crystal.

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**Chapter Two  
All Is Illusion and Vain Fantasy**

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"Thea?" Frigga murmured. The queen of Asgard moved to the window of her private receiving room, brushing a tendril of hair back from her face. Her son saw that her hand trembled just a little. Thor watched as his mother pressed her fingertips to the smooth pane of window-glass, pressed until her fingertips turned white at the edges. "Thea," she said again, as if testing or tasting the name. "Thea."

Sunlight drifted through the glass, casting rainbow sparkles upon the smooth marble floor and across the silken folds of his mother's pearl-gray dress. Her hair, piled artfully atop her head, caught the amber light of morning. It burnished the bronze strands, bringing out glints of copper fire. Thor stood near the chair his mother had offered him—the chair he'd been too restless to take when he'd first arrived—and watched Frigga stroke the glass. Worry for Loki was in every line of her body, in the brittle set of her shoulders, even the angle of her head as she studied Asgard through the window. They all worried for Loki; until the day he and Thor had battled atop the Bifröst, there hadn't been even the slightest inkling that there was anything wrong with him.

"Who do you think she is?" Frigga asked softly, pulling Thor's thoughts back to the meeting at hand. "This Thea he spoke of? A woman? Could he…" She trailed off, then seemed to steel herself to continue. "Could he have fallen in love with one of the Chitauri's agents, do you suppose?"

Thor's massive shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I…I'm not sure. He spoke of _they_. Not a single person. And he…he spoke to me of children."

Frigga's head whipped around, her honey-gold eyes wide. "Children?"

The prince sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He provoked me, and I told him he was acting like a child. Suddenly he…he changed again. He _was_ being his typical condescending self. He sneered at me, so I struck back with an insult to show him how petty I thought he was acting. It enraged him. I have never seen him so furious. He raged at me not to speak to him of children. I didn't understand…I _still_ don't understand what made him so angry."

"Perhaps this…Thea…was his child?"

Thor's eyes widened and an odd feeling churned in his belly. Loki…with a child? The thought was so alien, so bizarre, Thor could scarcely fathom it. His brother couldn't have a child. Loki as a father?

But then, if not so, why had his little brother become so infuriated at the petty insult? Had Thea been Loki's daughter? Or if not that, then a child he'd inexplicably grown fond of, who'd been killed during the Chitauri invasion? No, because how was _that_ Thor's fault?

Unless in Loki's insane guilt, he had to place blame on his foster brother because he could not shoulder it alone…

"I simply don't know, Mother," Thor murmured, heaving a sigh. "I do not know what Loki is thinking, or even if he speaks the truth. I came only to give you a report of what occurred last night. I know you worry for him."

"I worry for all of you," Frigga replied in a strained voice, turning back to the window. "Tyr was so angry at being passed over for the kingship, but…but he simply wasn't ready. Would _never_ be ready. Víðarr feels Loki's betrayal so keenly; he looked up to him. I do not know if they will ever be able to mend the breach. Balder and Hermod are both torn by what your brother has done, and you…we've asked so much of you, Thor—"

The brash, boyish smile Thor gifted her with seemed to ease some of Frigga's strain. She smiled at her second-eldest. Thor went to her and took her hands. "You needn't worry, Mother. I will handle Loki."

"Don't let Tyr provoke him," Frigga added. "I do not know what cruel game he plays with your brother, but Tyr's harsh words will help nothing."

Thor nodded. "Don't worry. I will speak to Tyr."

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As before, when Thor went to the dungeons to speak to his brother the next day, he approached with silence and the utmost caution. He'd never been as good at skulking and sneaking as Loki and Balder, but these days it seemed that if he took enough care, and Loki was distracted, his brother wouldn't notice Thor's presence until the older prince had had a chance to observe his strange behavior for a time. He was counting on that; after everything Loki had said the night before, Thor wanted a chance both to think and to observe his foster brother.

The clank of iron-shod boots on the marble floor arrested him. Frowning, Thor paused. The air suddenly seemed to hang thick in the torch-lit corridor. A sliver of apprehension whispered down the Æsir's spine as a guard hurried down the hall, eyes wide beneath the visor of his golden helm. Thor took three quick strides forward and grasped the guard by the shoulders, halting him.

"What is it?"

"Prince Loki, Your Highness," the guard gasped. "He is trying to perform _seiðr_ to break the bonds of his prison."

Something sharp and hot sliced through Thor like a blade. Loki was trying to escape? Now? Because he knew Thor was coming, and didn't wish to answer anymore of his questions? Or because of something else? Thor shoved past the guard, ordering, "Fetch my father."

Without waiting for the guard to acquiesce, he took off running. The blood pumped hot through his veins as he laid one hand on the hilt of his sword. His other hand flexed at his side, his fingers twitching with the desire to wrap tightly around Mjölnir. His hammer would come if he needed it, but for now, he would rely on his blade. Loki hadn't broken out _yet_—the backlash of power from the shattering prison-spells keeping him bound would've been felt throughout Asgard. There was still time to stop him.

With that thought, Thor lowered his head and put on a burst of speed that rocketed him down the corridor and around the corner, where he slid to a halt just before he would've come into Loki's line of sight.

But Thor could see Loki as plain as day.

His brother sat against the plain white wall of his prison, shoulders hunched, knees drawn up to his chest. One hand curled into a white-knuckled fist, pressed against Loki's mouth hard enough that Thor was surprised his brother had cut his lips on his own teeth. The other hand stretched out toward empty air, palm-up, trembling as if it held up a great weight. Loki's dark sleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm. Blue veins and chords of muscle strained against the pale flesh, and sweat streamed down the white brow, plastering strands of ebony hair to temples, cheeks, and neck.

Loki's breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. His chest rose and fell sharply with each breath. An intense, almost mad fire blazed in the absinthe green of his gaze; that gaze focused on a spot somewhere in front of him, never blinking, distant with concentration. Thor could tell Loki hadn't closed his eyes, even for a second, in some time—moisture gathered and seeped from the corners of Loki's eyes.

The second hand flexed open, shot out to join the other. Long, slender fingers stiffened; both hands shook with Herculean effort. Dark brows knotted in fierce concentration and the green eyes narrowed to mere slits. Pale, thin lips peeled back to reveal Loki had gritted his teeth, almost as if he were in pain. His breath whistled between his clenched teeth as he struggled against the bonds of his prison. The _seiðr_ that the All-Father had placed around the prison and laced throughout the room vibrated and hummed as Loki fought to bring his spell to fruition. The ensorcelled glass shield rattled in its casement with the force of the magic battering at it.

No. No, Loki couldn't escape. Not again. As vividly as a nightmare that would always haunt him, Thor remembered the day Loki had stepped out of the containment unit on the SHIELD Helicarrier, that smug grin on his face. As if everything were going according to plan. Thor recalled vividly how he'd run to tackle his brother, to shove him back into the cell, only to pass through the illusion of him like lunging through a sheet of icy water. He remembered the hiss of the prison door closing him in, his little brother's mocking query, _Are you ever_ not _going to fall for that?_

All too well could Thor remember Coulson preventing Loki from dropping the Asgardian from the Helicarrier to what should have been certain death…only to see his little brother murder the Midgardian who'd inexplicably become his friend with a thrust of the bladed spear through Coulson's back. Loki had murdered him…stabbed him in the back…like a coward…

Thor drew his sword, the _uru_ metal whispering against the leather sheath like a softly spoken promise of vengeance. His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to bruise his ribs. He took a step forward, rage and grief warring for pride of place in his chest. The leather-wrapped hilt of the sword was a heavy weight in his palm. He would do whatever it took to prevent Loki's escape. He would…he would shatter Loki's concentration…and if that didn't work, then…then he would…what would he do?

Another step dragged him closer to his brother.

Something shimmered in the air about two feet in front of Loki's nose. Shadows twisted and writhed in the air, coiling around each other, morphing like clay to take a vaguely human shape. Loki bit his lip until it bled. A thin trickle of blood leaked from his left nostril. The crimson droplets stood out as stark as rubies in the sun against the wan face and dark clothes. Wrinkles snarled across Loki's forehead and between his eyebrows as he leaned forward, hunger written plainly across his features.

The twining shadows smoothed out, the vague shape sculpting into more definable lines. Thor froze perhaps ten paces away from the cell. Thor didn't know as much about _seiðr_ as Loki—very few did, at least in Asgard—but he knew a little. Enough, in fact, to know that what Loki was doing would _never_ get him out of his cell. It would never help him escape.

It was an illusion spell. Not the kind of illusions Loki normally used to deceive his enemies; something less malignant, less vicious. This illusion couldn't even make tactile contact. Though it could _be_ touched, it couldn't touch anyone itself, couldn't affect the world around it. That was a subtle difference taught to every Asgardian warrior, because this type of illusion could be damaged, but could do no damage in its turn. If Loki had been forming an illusion of himself, perhaps it would have made sense, but this wasn't an image of the pseudo-Asgardian at all, nor could it be mistaken for such.

Thor lowered his sword as the shadows and smoke solidified into the image of a young child. He couldn't see the child's face, as she faced away from Thor and toward Loki; he saw only the back of her head and body. She might have been perhaps five or six years old, judging by her size. Slender, small, with thick, lustrous black curls falling to the middle of her back, she stood in typical Asgardian dress—a simple linen shift the color of fresh cream beneath a green velvet kirtle embroidered with gold runes. A deeply emerald ribbon tied back those curly black tresses, giving Thor just a glimpse of pale, round cheek, delicate ear, slender throat. Her small hands hung at her sides; in one she clutched a stuffed black bear with green eyes.

Was this Thea? She couldn't have been Loki's child. She was too old. Loki hadn't been in the habit of fathering bastards, and even had he been, Odin's edict regarding illegitimate issue was well-known—the by-blows (and their mothers) were to be brought to the palace, given work there, and taken care of as befitted the children, legitimate or not, of the royal family. Loki couldn't have had a child—not one he knew of, at any rate—before falling from the Bifröst three years ago, unless it were a Frost Giant babe…but the little creature Loki had rendered via illusion was no Frost Giant. So who was this girl?

Loki drew a shuddering breath. His eyes roved over the illusion of the child with insatiable hunger as he reached out with one shaking hand. Trembling fingertips halted a hand's span from the small cheek. Loki's fingers knotted into a fist and his breath escaped in what might have been a sob. Then, moving as if he might shatter, he caressed the child's cheek with his knuckles. Carefully slid his fingers into the black curls and ran his fingers through them; his eyes tracked the movement of his hand before returning to the girl's face, which Thor still couldn't see.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered. Thor jolted; it seemed his entire body had gone numb, then been struck by lightning. The rage and fear of Loki's escape dwindled to nothing, replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Loki's mouth quivered as he breathed, "Oh, little one…I'm _so_sorry. Forgive me. I swore to protect you…swore I would always…but I failed you. I'm so sorry."

Then Loki did the unthinkable—he shifted, rising to his knees, and embraced the child, pressing his face against her shoulder. A fine tremor went through the long, lean frame. Loki crushed strands of the little girl's black hair in his fists even as the illusion began to fade. Thor watched—chest tight and throat raw from swallowing back salt and sorrow at his younger brother's grief—as the girl's image vanished, leaving Loki holding naught but empty air. The rattle and hum of _seiðr_ pressing against _seiðr_ slowly faded.

Slowly, as if afraid of bleeding to death, Loki drew his hands to his chest and bowed his head. His shoulders shook once, twice. Then he went still. He knelt there for a moment, simply breathing. Then he surged to his feet and strode to the fireplace to gaze down at the flames. Thor saw then that an entire stack of drawings were burning to black char and ash amidst the coals. Was that what had brought on this sudden need to conjure the illusion?

Loki passed a hand over his face, and when it dropped back to his side, there was no sign of the anguish that had so recently pained the prince. The pale countenance was a blank mask, empty of everything. Then Loki's lip curled, his mouth twisting into that familiar and irritating smirk that made Thor's fist ache to knock it askew. He straightened his shoulders. Rolled his neck until a small _pop_ released some tension. Then he sighed and shook his head, before chuckling to himself.

"Thor is a fool," Loki whispered, still sneering. "But then, so are they all."

The words were a slap that struck aside everything Thor had felt in the last few moments upon seeing the illusion of the child. Left behind was only simmering anger.

"Fool, am I?" Thor demanded. His voice emerged harsh and strained, but the fresh anger in it came through well enough. Loki tensed, but didn't whip around to face his brother. Instead he pivoted slowly until he could look Thor in the eye. The elder prince snapped, "And why am I a fool?"

Loki chuckled dryly. "Well, there you stand. Surely the guards rushed off to tell you I was attempting to escape, yet you come running with your sword drawn in an effort to stop me…again. Even though every time you've attempted it, you've failed. Is that not foolish? Or perhaps mad," he added with a bright smile that made Thor's teeth clench. "Is not the definition of madness, 'doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result every time?'"

"Our father is coming to see you," Thor said coldly, ignoring his brother's taunt. "You will offer the proper respect—"

"I believe we've already established that he's _your_ father."

"So you decry us all because he didn't tell you that you were a foundling? Truly?" Thor sheathed his sword. "Don't tell me that everything you've done, every treachery committed, is because Father kept that truth from you?"

His brother shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "Believe what you will. You always have. Which is why, I imagine, you told the guard to bring the All-Father, in case I managed to get past you once I'd broken my bonds." When Thor said nothing, Loki scoffed. "So predictable."

"I remember what happened the last time you escaped your prison," Thor muttered. "You killed a man I was proud to call my friend and ally."

Loki arched a brow. "Oh? Did I?"

Thor lunged for the enchanted glass separating him from his brother. Thumping his fist against it, ignoring the prickling of the magic bound within the glass, the Asgardian growled like an enraged lion, "Don't you _dare_ mock me! He was my _friend_, Loki, and you murdered him in cold blood."

Another disdainful scoff. "He had a gun aimed at me. What did you expect me to do, Brother—let him blast me into a million pieces? I know you were sorely disappointed when I managed to survive his attempt, but surely you've more sense than _that_."

"Disapp—" Thor choked on the word. He stared at his brother with incredulous eyes. "Is that what you think? That I wanted you dead? Bor's ghost, Loki, why would you ever think that?"

"Because I remember you dropping me off the end of the Bifröst into the blackness of an abyss without a thought, _Brother!_"

He'd said that before, Thor recalled, when they'd argued in the forested hills around Stuttgart. _We grew up together, played together. We fought together. Don't you remember?_ And Loki had said something like, _I remember you dropping me into an abyss._ Thor hadn't known what to make of that at the time; still didn't. But there had been other things that needed to be said, and so he'd let it go. Yet surely Loki didn't think that Thor had let him fall on purpose? Loki had _let go_ of the haft of Gungnir. Didn't he remember?

"You let go," Thor murmured. And even now, that memory sent a shaft of ice through his heart. "I begged you not to. I _begged_ you, Loki, and yet you…you let go."

Loki blinked, brow furrowing as if in confusion. He shook his head slowly. "No. No, you dropped me—"

"I didn't," Thor insisted. "I would never. You're my brother. I _mourned_ you, Loki. I thought you were dead. When I found out you were alive, I was overjoyed. How could you ever think otherwise?"

"Oh, yes, you seemed quite glad to see me when you dragged me off that Midgardian aircraft by the scruff of my neck like an errant child and then hurled me into a mountainside when we made it back to the ground. I could see your joy as plain as a campfire in the dark, Brother."

"You'd murdered innocent people. The Midgardian authorities had you in custody for crimes you'd committed against them. Did you expect me to be happy about that?"

A flash of snow-white teeth in a smile that was more of a sneer. "Happy? Perhaps not. I suppose it isn't your fault you've become so soft. I can understand, even sympathize. No, I didn't expect you to be happy. But I didn't _murder_ anyone. The Midgardians who died were unfortunate casualties—"

"Unfortunate casualties?" A rich, deep voice asked from behind Thor. Immediately Thor saw Loki's features close off, his eyes go blank and cold as frosted emeralds. His lips thinned into a severe line. The elder prince hadn't realized how much his younger brother had opened up to him until he shut down in the presence of the All-Father who'd raised them both. Odin continued, "Is that what you call those innocents, Loki?"

Loki's lips twisted into an expression Thor couldn't quite name. "Do you think me a liar, All-Father? Do you doubt my sincerity?"

Odin's single blue burned as it rested on his adopted son. "Do I?"

Loki gave a short, sharp laugh that seemed to Thor as if it should've left either his brother or Odin bleeding. He replied, "Ah, but I'm never sincere, am I, Thor? You've said so yourself. But then," he focused on Odin, and the blankness left his gaze, to be replaced by something icy and razor sharp, "neither are you."

Odin didn't speak for several long moments. Thor studied his father, dressed in somber black with his hair tied back in a queue to keep it out of his face; his father had been sparring in the salle, no doubt. Thor wondered if the king of Asgard saw as much—despite Loki's mask of boredom—as Thor did himself. Finally, the white-haired Asgardian asked, "You attempted to thwart the containment spells on your prison; why? What did you hope to accomplish? Surely you knew you couldn't break them and escape, so why waste so much effort?"

Thor opened his mouth to tell his father about the illusion of the little girl, then closed it. Loki didn't know he'd been seen; at least, Thor was fairly certain he didn't know, judging by Loki's reaction the last time he'd accused Thor of spying on him. What sort of damage would it do to whatever progress the golden-haired prince was making with his wayward younger brother if he revealed that secret to their father in front of him? Somehow Thor knew that Loki would never forgive him. And what would Odin do with the information? Had Frigga already told him of the mysterious Thea, whose death Loki blamed on Thor?

"It wasn't a waste," Loki said simply, smirking once more. "Clearly Heimdall isn't keeping as strict a watch as you would like, since _he__ cannot_answer your questions. Then again, he has always been particularly blind to what was right in front of him…as have you, All-Father."

"Loki, that's enough," Thor cautioned sharply. Loki shook his head, but said nothing more. "Father, Loki hasn't escaped, as you can see. He has not the strength to make another attempt in the near future. Let me speak to him alone. Perhaps I can get the answers you seek."

When Loki snorted, Thor shot him a look that clearly said, _Shut up._

After another interminable silence, Odin nodded. "Very well. Reason with him…if you can." And he turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor, leaving the brothers alone save for the guards. At a nod from Thor, they took themselves off a ways, giving the princes privacy once more.

"I hope you enjoy wasting your breath," Loki said with a smile. He turned to walk to the chair where he normally sat during his and Thor's often one-sided conversations. "Not to mention your time."

"Both are mine to waste," Thor replied, thinking quickly. "Tell me…who was the girl?"

Loki froze, as if his entire body had been encased in a thick sheet of ice. So excruciatingly slowly, he turned to look at Thor. "What girl?"

"The child you conjured," Thor said gently. Bored mask gone, Loki leveled a vicious look at him. "Who was she?"

"That is _none_ of your concern."

Still keeping his voice gentle, the Asgardian prince asked, "Was that Thea?"

Pale hands slammed down on the table hard enough to make the ink-wells rattle. "Don't say her name!" Loki hissed, hatred seething beneath the words. "How _dare_ you? You don't deserve to speak her name!"

Time for a single moment of ruthlessness. "Why?" Thor demanded. "Because you and I killed her?"

The effect on Loki was immediate. All the rage and hatred dissipated and he sank into the chair like his legs would no longer support him. His pale face grew haggard. He closed his eyes as if attempting to block out Thor and his incessant questions. A ragged sigh escaped him.

"That child—that was her, wasn't it?" Thor asked. "Who was she?"

But Loki shook his head. Wearily, he said, "That wasn't her. That was…someone else."

"Who?" When Loki didn't speak again, Thor said, "You said you would give me the reasons for my condemnation today, Brother. You would tell me once and for all why you hate me so. Well, here I am. Give me your reasons. Because of a girl whose name you have forbidden to speak, and why else?" Silence stretched between, broken only when Thor implored, "Tell me why, Loki."

The seconds ticked by as Loki sat with his eyes closed, his face unreadable. Thor measured those seconds—those small eternities—with the rapid, uneasy beat of his heart. Finally his brother lifted his head and locked shadowed emerald eyes with his own blue gaze.

"The…the child you saw…" Loki seemed to momentarily struggle for breath. "Her name…was…Sophie."

_Was_. A hollow pang hit Thor in the chest. The child had been so young…"She is dead, then."

Loki's hand resting atop the table spasmed into a white-knuckled fist. "Yes."

Sophie. A Midgardian name. A Midgardian child? Thor couldn't be sure, but he did know that Loki would never have given a child of his loins a name from Midgard. No Frost Giant would give their child a Midgardian name. Nor, Thor was almost certain, would any Asgardian woman Loki might have bedded do so, either. Loki had always disdained mortals. He would never call a daughter of his after mortal fashion. But then…who was the child?

Sensing an odd brittleness in Loki, Thor's voice was at its gentlest when he asked, "Who was she?"

The green-eyed prince shook his head. "I cannot explain so you would understand…not in the time we have. I know I promised you an explanation, and so you shall have one, but to make all known, I must start at the very beginning—the moment I fell from the Bifröst." He cleared his throat. "It is quite a long tale. Are you certain you wish to hear it?"

Thor nodded. "Tell me. I will hear you out, Brother."

Loki drew yet another ragged breath that seemed to tear through his chest like a knife. He said softly, "You asked me who Thea was. I'll tell you. She was a prisoner of the Chitauri…a prisoner from Midgard."

"One of the prisoners you captured for them?" Thor hazarded.

Yet Loki shook his head. A rueful smile played about his mouth, edged with no little pain. His eyes were tired when they lit on Thor's baffled face, but a flicker of amusement warmed them from glacial emerald to a softer green.

"You still think you know how it all played out. You think you're so wise," Loki whispered, "so clever." He leaned his head back, supporting the weight of it against one fist. His dark hair gleamed in the lamp- and firelight. The lines of pain around his mouth deepened as he closed his eyes again, laughed softly, ruefully. "You think I caught her, like a songbird behind golden bars, and then regretted caging her when my better nature won out? You're such a fool, Brother. My prisoner? No. Thea wasn't _my_ captive."

Noting his brother's emphasis, Thor asked, "Then…who was she?"

"She was the prisoner in the cell next to mine."

_TBC_

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_**Author's Note**__: so? So? So? What do you guys think? Did anyone see that coming? Who do you guys think the kid is? Who thought Thea was the kid until Loki said otherwise? Who thinks Loki is lying? What do you think will happen next? How am I doing with keeping things interesting so far? Reviews are love, so love me. Love me! *crazy eyes* LOVE ME!_

_Ahem. I'm calm now. Hugs for everyone, because I love you guys. Toodles!_


	4. What Was She to You?

_Author's Note__: so I'm rushing with this author's note, sorry, because I'm running a bit late, but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think! Loves to all of you! And happy 4th of July!_

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Chapter Three  
What Was She to You?

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Thor stared at his younger foster brother, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Loki gazed back at him impassively. Not a flicker betrayed him. But then, his brother had always been a good liar. He'd had centuries upon centuries of practice. After all, hadn't Loki fooled Thor—fooled them _all_—for however long he'd been plotting to usurp the crown prince and take the Asgardian throne? Why should Thor be surprised that his little brother could lie convincingly?

But the words the crown prince had spoken only the day before slipped into Thor's mind, taunting him with the echoes of a promise made to the younger foster brother who might just be going mad.

_Loki, I don't understand. Please, explain it to me_…_Why should I bother?_ Loki had asked. _You won't listen…I will_, Thor had said. He'd promised to listen. And when Loki had predicted, _You won't believe_, Thor had promised to try. Perhaps such an oath had been rash, because how could he believe that Loki had gone from the Chitauri's unwilling prisoner to their general and the leader of their invading force? It was preposterous.

"The cell next to yours?" Thor echoed, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. "Did you take it and feign imprisonment in an attempt to woo the girl's confidences? Gain her trust? What did she have that the Chitauri could want so badly?" Was this Thea that Loki spoke of even really dead? Did she even _exist?_

The green-eyed prince shook his head wearily. For a moment there was something in Loki's face that caught Thor's eye, an almost-feral desperation—there one instant, gone the very next, pulling at the concern always hanging over Thor like a threatening cloudburst. But then, replacing that whisper of bestial _phobos,_ was Loki's familiar disdain. Rolling his eyes, he sneered, "Of course that was my design. After all, of course the Chitauri would seek to harness the power to destroy entire worlds in an eye-blink, with just the wave of a hand."

Thor's eyes widened. Horror shivered through him. Could his enemies truly possess such power? Midgardians were advancing at a frightening pace. Some of them, like Banner and Steven, possessed powers beyond the norm for their species. Could there be a Midgardian as powerful as Loki claimed? Then if the Chitauri ever returned to Midgard in full force, they could wipe out the mortals in seconds. Blue eyes stared at Loki in dismay as his thin lips curved into a smirk.

"Such power, and all in the hands of a single Midgardian. Truly a powerful weapon. Of course the Chitauri wanted her abilities under their control. Once the girl fell under my power, it was a simple enough matter, wooing her to our side."

Thor stepped back from the ensorcelled glass. The buzz of the _seiðr_ dissipated as he put distance between himself and the containment spells. Sick disappointment churned in his stomach, mingling with the ever-present simmer of anger. Silence descended, broken only by the snap and crackle of the torches in the corridor. Shadows danced along the walls while coldly enraged blue eyes locked with taunting emerald.

"You almost had me fooled, Brother," Thor muttered, no little bitterness tingeing the words. He'd thought they were making progress. He had truly thought he was getting through to Loki a little. But it had all been a cruel little game to his brother. What was the crown prince supposed to tell Frigga? "I should have known better than to trust anything you said," he added softly. "A soldier for the Chitauri to the end, I suppose? You tricked the girl into using her powers for your twisted master and then killed her yourself, did you? And here you had me feeling sorry for you."

A flash of vicious hatred and something that might have been betrayal in Loki's blue-tinged eyes should've sliced Thor to the bone; he tried to shove the feel down, where he could ignore it. Surging to his feet, Loki stalked forward. The smirk was gone; all traces of amusement had vanished. In a voice smoldering with abyssal fire, Loki snarled, "Sorry for me. You felt _sorry_ for me. Let me be the first to tell you how very much I appreciate your pathetic and so-sincere sentiment, Brother."

Pale hands slammed against the glass. Under Loki's strength, normal glass would have buckled, cracks spiderwebbing across the smooth panes before shattering under the blow. The enchanted window merely shuddered in its frame. Sparks of blue magic shot across the pane in incandescent waves. Loki pressed his forehead against the sparking, crackling glass, despite the fact that the _seiðr_ had to be pushing at him, vainly attempting to shove him back with little needle-pricks of pain against his skin.

From between clenched teeth Loki spat, "Are you stupid? Are you blind?" Thor bristled, but before he could snap a reply, Loki jerked his hands back from the glass and brought them crashing forward again. The glass rattled harder under this second blow. The magic in it blazed with cobalt fire that reflected like dancing flames in Loki's eyes. The younger prince added with savage heat, "You sanctimonious _idiot!_ You really are a fool. Will you believe anything I spoon-feed you? You've not changed at all."

Squaring his shoulders, Thor said coolly, "I'll not be toyed with, Loki."

Loki sneered at him. Thor's fist ached to knock that sneer off his brother's face. His fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his knuckles ached with the strain. Loki's voice dripped contempt when he hissed, "But you make it so disgustingly easy, _Brother_."

With a roar like an enraged lion, the crown prince took two furious strides forward and brought his fist down on the glass. It shuddered under the impact of his fist. Both princes seemed surprised by this flash of temper from Thor, but Loki's surprise quickly morphed into disdainful amusement. Thor narrowed his eyes as thin, pale lips curled into a cat-like smile. His heart hammered like Mjölnir in his chest as fresh anger flooded his veins like molten iron.

"Norns rot your soul, Loki," Thor thundered. A knife-thin black brow winged upward in mocking inquiry. Every word picked up more volume as Thor bellowed, "For once in your life, abandon your webs of falsehood and _tell me the truth!_"

The words echoed in the corridor. Thor's chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing, fought to cool his not-inconsiderable temper, fed by hurt, and bring it to heel. Loki merely regarded him with unfathomable emerald eyes. The contempt and condescension faded from his expression, leaving it blank as a brand new sheet of paper. Something impossible to read glittered in the depths of that jewel-gaze as the two brothers regarded each other. At last Loki's mouth curved into a smile with just a trace of mockery in it—mockery aimed at Loki himself, Thor thought with some surprise, not at the crown prince. Loki nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.

"The truth?" Loki murmured conversationally. He shook his head as if in disbelief and pulled away from the glass, turning his back on Thor to amble over to the table and chair that he so often occupied during these visits. As if too weary to stand any longer, Loki slumped into the chair and stretched out his long legs. Long fingers trembled as they reached for a single sheet of paper on the table.

From his semi-distant vantage point, Thor could see the cramped, spidery handwriting that filled the entire page. The top-most line was the only part of the thing discernible from that distance. The Asgardian thought he saw a word beginning with _"A"_…but couldn't quite make it out. That small detail seemed important, though he couldn't have explained why.

Loki's eyes roved over the paper for a long moment of silence before he dropped it to the table again. Then he lifted his gaze to Thor's. "You want the truth? Truly?"

His anger finally under control once more, Thor nodded. "It is all I have ever wanted from you, Loki." Silently he pleaded with his brother. _Work with me, Loki_, he tried to say with his gaze. _Will you not help me to help yourself, Brother? Tell me the truth._

Loki sighed and leaned back. Propping his elbow the arm of the chair, he brought his hand to his mouth and draped two fingers across his lips as Thor had seen him do when considering a difficult problem. After a time, Loki nodded again and fixed his brother with a look that was almost pitying.

"I shall give you the truth, then, since you want it so much."

He straightened, dropping his arms so they draped across his thighs. He leaned forward, jade eyes piercing, and stared at Thor like a serpent watching a mouse. A strange unease shivered through the Asgardian under the full weight of that gaze.

Loki swallowed audibly and a shudder rippled through his tall, lean frame. "Tell me, Brother…do you have any idea what it is to be locked away in a dank, dark pit for days, weeks, _months_ on end?" Loki's brow arched upward as Thor's brows furrowed. "Do you know what it's like, Thor, to be trapped in a box so small you can't take three paces, nor even stand without stooping, but are forced to _crawl like a worm?_"

Thor opened his mouth to reply…and found he had no words. He couldn't imagine Loki crawling. He couldn't imagine anyone having the audacity to try and make him do so. Even when he'd stood before Odin to receive the judgment of the All-Father for his crimes against both Midgard and Asgard, Loki had stood tall, refusing to kneel before a man he named "a treacherous liar." And Loki hadn't seemed to be crawling under the cruel weight of the Chitauri's torments when he'd murdered Coulson or overseen the attack on the mortal city of Manhattan. When he'd stabbed Thor after the Asgardian had pleaded with him one last time to surrender and come home. What fetters had bound him then?

_The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Odin could devise_…The words echoed in Thor's brain, a whisper of doubt that he ruthlessly shoved away. Let Loki spin his lies like a slender, black spider biding time in the center of his web intent on ensnaring the crown prince as his prey. Let him try to spin his web of falsehoods. Thor would have none of it.

But there was the memory of his anguish when he'd called up the vision of the little girl. Sophie. If the child didn't exist, if she were merely a tool for Loki's latest scheme, then where had he even heard such a name? And what if she did exist? If she and Thea were in fact real…what had wrung such grief from Thor's brother? Why had he needed to swear to protect young Sophie, and from what? And what had caused him to fail?

What was Thor supposed to believe?

He focused once more on Loki as the steady voice suddenly wavered and trailed away. Wrinkles furled between Loki's brows and he bit his lip hard enough that a white spot stood out against the flesh. Loki pressed his palms flat to the table, bowing his head so that strands of inky hair spilled across his face, hiding his features. Breathing ragged with some unknown strain filled the otherwise quiet chamber and the corridor beyond.

Finally Loki rasped, "Have you ever been shut up in pitch blackness for so long that you cannot remember the feel of the wind, the song of the Asgardian Sea roaring over the edge of the abyss, the sight of sunlight or moonlight or even the faint glimmer of the stars? Have you any idea what it's like, to be wrapped in silence so absolute that you only have the sound of your heart roaring in your ears and your own screams to listen to?" Loki's hands knotted into fists so tight they shook. "Do you know what it is to be clawed at so savagely by thirst that you'd drink the blood of the rats scuttling around in your cell in order to quench it, only to choke on the poisonous salt? Have you ever known hunger so savage it tears at your guts like rabid wolves until you think you must eat _something_—slop or sawdust or glass, _anything_—or you'll go mad with the pain tearing at your belly?"

Dark lashes drifted down to make black crescents against Loki's pale cheeks as he turned his head away, as if unable to look at his brother any longer. He drew a sharp, shuddering breath. "Tell me that, Thor. Tell me if you've ever known the degradation of being treated worse than the lowliest cur, with no hope of ever escaping captivity unless you give in and do the unthinkable—and yet you still refused. Even when you thought insanity loomed on the horizon, even when your nails were torn and bloodied from clawing at the walls for hours in a futile attempt at escape…even when you sought to take your own life in order to escape, only to be thwarted by your torturers...have you ever experienced such, Brother?"

"Mother and Father never put you in such a place," Thor snapped, masking his horror and unease with irritation. It hurt, like a knife through his heart, to think of his little brother in such a place. But Loki had looked fine when Thor had found him on the mortal aircraft. There was no proof of such torments.

In an utterly dead, emotionless voice the other prince replied, "I am not talking about the prison cells of Asgard."

"Then what _are_ you talking about?"

"I am talking about the Chitauri dungeons."

And despite the wall of doubts assailing him, Thor was suddenly reminded of that first visit and reconnaissance mission to Loki's cell on his mother's behalf. Loki had knelt before the fire as one of the infamous and unknown drawings crackled amidst the searing flames. In an almost-tortured rasp, Loki had demanded, "_What do they know of darkness? What do they know of the choking blackness of the void? What do they know of isolation? Nothing. Nothing at all."_ Had this been what he meant?

Bile seared the back of Thor's throat. No. No, he couldn't believe his little brother had been subjected to such tortures after falling from the Bifröst. Thor wouldn't—_couldn't_—believe it. Loki was lying. That was all there was to it. For if he was telling the truth, how had he become the Chitauri's commander on the invasion field? But of course, if the prince asked his brother such a question, of course Loki would have an answer ready; a perfectly good answer, which would come tripping sweetly off his forked tongue, the deceitful snake.

In a lifetime of lies, it was nearly impossible to discern the truth. And Loki could never seem to hold onto sincerity for long, even during these conversations. Not without being poisoned by the mad rage or disdain so prevalent in his dealings with Thor.

Loki at last opened his eyes and stared unseeingly into the slowly-dying hearth flames. Shadows cast by the fire flickered in Loki's empty gaze. His elder brother could only stare in baffled silence. Loki's voice rang with sincerity…but then, it had done so the day of Thor's almost-coronation, when he'd professed his fraternal love for his brother.

For a long moment, Thor continued to stare at Loki and try to fathom what his brother was telling him. Which was the truth? Every word vibrated with such rage and desperation when Loki spoke of what the Chitauri had supposedly done to him…but then, there was the question of Thea. Her identity. Whether she had been intended as a tool for the Chitauri's invasion force, or whether she even existed. And the child, Sophie—what if she, too, were a lie? Was Loki simply attempting to manipulate him? He'd had done so many times before: before the ill-fated trip to Jötunheim over two years ago, on the Bifröst during their climactic battle that had resulted in the shattering of the rainbow bridge, atop the cliffs above the winter-sere woods outside of Stuttgart on Midgard, on the SHIELD Helicarrier, at the summit of Stark Tower…What if this was just another such attempt?

"I told you that you wouldn't listen," Loki murmured, leaning his forearms atop the table. He stared at the paper filled with his careful but miniscule handwriting as if his gaze could devour the words like a starving man at a banquet. A tired green-gray gaze flicked to Thor's face, then back to the paper. Loki sighed. "You _never_ listen. It seems I'm not the only one who's never sincere."

Wondering vaguely if ruthlessness or true curiosity prompted the question, Thor demanded, "And did _she_ listen? Your precious Thea? Did she drink up all your sweetly poisoned lies?" But Loki said nothing. Merely closed his eyes and laced his fingers together so that he could rest his chin atop his hands. "Answer me!" Thor shouted. The blood pounded hot through his body once more as fresh anger lanced him. Did Loki have to be mysterious about _everything?_

A swift transformation overtook the green-eyed prince. The smooth white brow furrowed, wrinkles snarling betwixt his thin black eyebrows. Thin lips pulled back slightly as Loki bared his teeth in something to savage to be called a smile but too pained to be snarl. That new and all-too-familiar arctic loathing filled eyes like emerald knives that threatened to cut Thor open to the bone.

"How dare you speak her name?" Loki slowly rose to his feet, gaze fixed on his foster brother. Each word was chiseled from jagged ice. "How dare you speak of her at all? You don't deserve to know her. You don't deserve to even know _of_ her. How dare you? How dare you mock what you do not know?"

The words sent an odd pang through Thor's chest. He still couldn't shake the feeling that whoever this Thea was, Loki had cared for her. Perhaps deeply. But Loki had supposedly cared for his foster family, and look what he'd done to all of them. Forcing coldness into his voice, Thor said, "You take offense because I dare to take you to task for lying to her—"

With a swift savagery that seemed to Thor almost to be madness, Loki lunged forward, raging, "_I never lied to her!_" Thor jerked back from his brother, stunned. Loki roared, "_How dare you!_ How _dare_ you speak of lies when your own _father_ lied to you since the day I came to this place! How dare you accuse _me_ of lying to her when _you_ are the one who lied to your precious mortal! 'I'll return to you,' you said. You swore it to her; I was _watching_. Yet I am the liar? _I_ am? _You_ had a choice! You didn't have to shatter the Bifröst! You could have gone back! I had no choice! _None!_ There was _nothing_ I could do! It's _your_ fault, damn you! It's all your fault! _You wouldn't let me return!_"

"Return _where?_" Thor demanded incredulously. "You had no means of traveling between the realms, no way to leave Midgard—"

"I begged you for the tesseract!" Loki snarled. His hands twisted into claws, his ragged nails screeching softly against the ensorcelled glass as his hands flexed. "You wouldn't listen! I begged you to let me go, begged you to—"

"_Demanded_ the tesseract," Thor contradicted. "_Demanded_ I release you, and for what? To wreak more havoc? To butcher more innocent people? To shame our house, betray our king and our honor—"

Loki thumped one fist against the glass. His eyes, bright with a crazed light, seemed almost blue in the uncertain illumination from the torches. "I owe the All-Father nothing. _Nothing_. Because of him and because of you, Thea is dead now. He sent you after me, sent you to interfere, and because of you, she's dead. She's dead, damn you. They _both_ are. Don't speak to me of betraying honor. Where is the honor of the House of Odin now? Drowned in the blood of two innocents. If you had just let me go, instead of betraying me yet again, they would still be alive and all those Midgardians wouldn't have died in vain."

Hiding his unease and uncertainty with feigned disgust, the crown prince shook his head. "You've changed, Brother. At least before your betrayal during my exile, you were man enough to accept responsibility for your own mistakes. The blood of the Midgardians you slaughtered isn't on _my_ hands. Look in the mirror to see the face of a true killer."

Thor nearly attempted to leap through the glass and strike his younger brother when Loki sneered at him yet again, his lip curling in obvious contempt. In a hissing, almost snakelike voice, Loki said, "A killer. Oh, yes, I _am_ a killer, aren't I? My hands are stained by so much blood they'll never be clean again. I can even tell you where it comes from, all that blood—the blood of innocent women, children. Infants. What was it the little mortal inquisitor said? Ah, yes, I recall it. 'I have red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out.' But you can _never_ wipe out that much red. Not when the pages drip and gush with it…which is exactly what I told her. Yes, Brother, I am a killer. I know it; I don't need a coward, a traitor, and a murderer like _you_ to tell me."

Sky-blue eyes widened. "Traitor? Coward? Murderer? How dare you, Laufeyson? You betray the king of Asgard—to whom you owe your life, to whom your swore fealty, who raised you as his own _son_—usurp the throne that rightfully belongs to your brother, attempt to decimate Jötunheim, try to kill me while laying waste to mortal homes, join forces with the Chitauri, invade Midgard, murder innocent people, stab _my_ friend and comrade in the back, command a slaughter, and yet you name _me_ traitor and coward?"

Loki raised one mocking brow. "Is _that_ what I did, Brother?" He asked in a faux-shocked tone. "All of that? Tsk, tsk. No wonder you wish I were dead. I must be such an embarrassment to you. I suppose nothing I did would surprise you after all that."

"Don't _mock_ me, Loki! And do not put words in my mouth!"

His younger brother glared, contempt practically dripping from him. "You think you're so superior, don't you? You think you know everything. You think you know how it was. You and all the rest of the Asgardians have always believed yourselves so far above me, even before you knew the truth. Nothing I could do would ever make me your equal. I would always be inferior to you in the eyes of the kingdom." Loki shook his head in disgust. "Get out of here, Thor. Go away, and don't come back. Tell the queen it's pointless. Ah, yes—I knew why you were here: to offer the queen some small ray of hope that her precious foundling was still in here, somewhere. Well, let me tell you this: Loki Odinson is dead, and I am what's left. Don't seek your answers here. I am finished with you."

"Tell me what happened when you fell from the Bifröst, Loki," Thor demanded, only to be ignored as his brother turned and strode not to the chair, but to the cot that served him for a bed. Flinging himself carelessly upon it, the disguised Frost Giant fixed his eyes on the ceiling of his prison. "Tell me! Curse you, Brother, you _will_ tell me the truth!"

"You don't deserve the truth," Loki murmured, closing his eyes. "Stop pestering me for it like a child wanting a sweet."

Willing to use almost any means necessary to keep his brother talking, Thor snapped, "Like a child, am I? A child like your little Sophie?" Every muscle in Loki's body stiffened. His eyes shot open, though he didn't look toward the crown prince. "Where did you find her, Brother? Did you trick her into helping you, promising your protection and friendship, feigning affection for her, only to betray her in the end?" Loki's hands convulsed into fists. He took one single sharp breath. His eyes blazed, but he still didn't look at Thor. "What was she to you? Hmmm? A servant? A slave? One of your pawns?" He was using Tyr's goading approach, which Thor realized was pathetic, but if it would make Loki say something, perhaps it was worth it.

There was a long silence, then Loki slowly released the breath he'd been holding. Keeping his eyes focused on the plain stone ceiling above, he said tonelessly, "Still so very blind. Still so dense. How does anything get through that thick skull of yours? I spoke to the king about it some centuries ago; one too many strikes to the head when you failed to catch Mjölnir." Thor growled low in his throat, but said nothing. Finally Loki added, "The question you should ask is not what was she to me, Thor. The proper question is, what was she to _you?_"

Thor's mouth fell open. His thoughts stuttered to a halt for a split-second, then began racing through his skull. But no matter how Thor prodded or coaxed, Loki closed his eyes and would speak no more.

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_Author's Note__: hope you guys enjoyed! I'm sorry it took so long for me to update. Huggles!_


	5. No Friendly Drop to Help Me After

_**Author's Note**__: my beta is reading this fic! I'm so excited because she hates Loki, but she loves this fic. I'm so excited! SO EXCITED! So here we go with chapter four. I hope you guys like it. Hugs for everyone!_

_Oh, and I have some cool stuff for this fic on Pinterest and on DeviantArt. I'll post links to my profiles on my Fanfiction profile. Go check them out and feel free to comment!_

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Chapter Four  
No Friendly Drop to Help Me After

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_The question you should ask is not what was she to me, Thor. The proper question is, what was she toyou?_

Loki's words reverberated through Thor's skull as he lay in bed that night, staring into the darkness of his chamber as if that would give him some insight into his brother's cryptic words. No epiphany emerged from the shadows. No moment of enlightenment found the crown prince, in waking or in dreams. He woke the next morning near dawn, bleary-eyed, head aching from the questions circling in his mind. Who was Sophie, this child who was somehow connected to Loki and, apparently, to Thor? How had Loki found her? How had he come to care so deeply for her? And care for her he did; Thor couldn't find it in himself to discount his foster brother's visceral reactions whenever Sophie came up in conversation. What did the child have to do with the mysterious Thea?

The prince was still pondering all of this as he trudged into the dining hall and slumped onto the bench. Within moments Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun had taken spots on either side and across from him. Remaining in a fog of exhaustion, Thor basically ignored the Warriors Three as they filled their plates and began eating. It was only when Fandral and Volstagg both fell silent that Thor realized one of them must have said something to him, and he'd missed it.

"Thor," the corpulent Volstagg said, catching the other Asgardian's eye. "Will you not take some time to spar with us this morning?"

He shook his head. After he finished his meal, he needed to speak to Loki again. He'd already reported yesterday's happenings to his mother; now he needed to know more. He couldn't leave things as they were between himself and his little brother. Like a boorish idiot, he'd lashed out at Loki in attempt to get him to speak, attacking the only two things that seemed to be capable of truly hurting him—the mysterious Thea and Sophie.

"Sif will be there," Fandral added, then casually took a sip of wine. Thor frowned at him.

"Where?"

Now all three of his friends were staring at him. As if speaking to a particularly dull child, Fandral said, "At our sparring session. In the salle. Which we just invited you to."

Thor shook his head. "I can't. I have an important matter to attend to."

There was a long silence. It was Hogun, who was so taciturn that many called him Hogun the Grim, who finally broke that silence. "You are going to see Loki." He waited for Thor to cant his head in acknowledgement before adding, "You are with him often these past weeks." Thor said nothing, thinking of the illusion of the child called Sophie, and the unknown Thea, and Loki's claim that the Chitauri had imprisoned him. It was _not_ something to share with his friends. Not yet, if ever. Hogun sighed. "He cannot be helped, Thor. He is lost."

"You do the queen a disservice by making her think otherwise," Fandral added softly. Thor shot him a look of glacial sapphire and his friend mumbled an apology, hiding from the prince's ire behind his goblet of wine. Silence fell again. Any attempts at restarting the conversation were feeble, easily shot down with one slashing look from Thor.

At last the Asgardian prince decided he could eat no more, and rose from the table. His friends—three brave warriors who had once been Loki's friends as well—watched him go. Their gazes were heavy on his back as he left the dining hall.

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The walk to the dungeon hall two mornings later led the prince down corridors of stone that echoed with his footsteps and shaded pathways where early-morning summer sunlight dappled across the floor and briefly warmed his skin. Beyond the arched roofs, he could see the sun still soft and golden with the last kiss of dawn in the sky with its peach and amber clouds. Birds sang to welcome the new morning. Thor sighed, wondering if his little brother missed sunrises, sunsets. Loki had always been fond of the stars, as well. Did he miss being able to gaze up at the star-studded night sky?

From morning light to timeless shadow, Thor stepped into the dungeons, where only torches held back to darkness. With every step the birdsong grew dimmer and dimmer, until it had been silenced all together, leaving only oppressive quiet.

_Have you ever been shut up in pitch blackness for so long that you cannot remember the feel of the wind, the song of the Asgardian Sea roaring over the edge of the abyss, the sight of sunlight or moonlight or even the faint glimmer of the stars? Have you any idea what it's like, to be wrapped in silence so absolute that you only have the sound of your heart roaring in your ears and your own screams to listen to?_

Did the shadows and the quiet remind Loki of his time in the Chitauri dungeons? Or the time he claimed to have spent, anyway? What had helped him through such terrible times, Thor wondered? He'd asked the day before, and the day before that, only to be ignored. He resolved to ask his brother again when he arrived at his cell this time. It was Midsummer's Day; he was due for some luck.

But Thor slowed as he approached when he heard a snide voice ask, "Another drawing? Quite the artist, aren't you, little brother?"

_Tyr_, Thor thought, rolling his eyes. Didn't his older brother have anything better to do an hour after dawn besides taunt Loki? Tryst with a chambermaid or get drunk, for instance? Or pound on someone in the practice yard? Squaring his shoulders, he picked up the pace.

"I've heard the guards say you're drawing a woman," Tyr continued to jeer at his foster brother. A jolt of electricity snapped through Thor's body. A woman? Was it Thea? "Feeling lonely, are we, little Frost Giant? Who is she, the woman in your drawings? Your current favorite? Maybe I should pay her a visit; she must be something special if she can hold your interest this long. What's her name?"

"If you do not stop talking, I will—"

"You'll what?" Tyr demanded, laughing. "Reach through the shielded glass and kill me? As if you could. And even if you were able to, well…Thor would _really_ hate you then. And what would Mother and Father say? That would be your second attempt at fratricide. Who's next on your list? Balder? Besides, you don't need to answer. I merely wished to see if you would. I already know your woman's name. Thea, wasn't it?"

At that, Thor launched into a run just as the sound of something heavy hitting glass echoed down the corridor. Thor rounded the corner to see Loki plastered to the large pane of ensorcelled glass, lips twisted into a feral snarl, eyes blazing. Only Tyr's broad back and the back of his crow-dark hair were visible to Thor, but the prince was fairly certain his elder brother was sneering.

"Shut up!" Loki yelled. "Shut up!"

"Oh-ho!" Tyr folded his massive arms across his chest and laughed. "Well, well, _well_. Don't you remember Mother's lessons about sharing, Brother? I promise not to hurt the silly little slut. I only mean to—"

But Loki rammed the glass hard enough that even Tyr went quiet. Dark brows knotted, shoulders and chest heaving with every ragged breath, Loki spat from between clenched teeth, "Get. Out. You filthy swine, _get out!_"

"Swine, am I?" Tyr's voice turned savage. "You treacherous little bast—"

"Tyr!" Thor snapped, imbuing his voice with that regal coldness his father had taught him in his youth. His elder brother turned and grinned when he saw Thor, glacier-blue eyes warming slightly, but the grin slipped away when he caught sight of the crown prince's expression. Tyr opened his mouth to say something but Thor ruthlessly cut him off. "You will not speak to Loki, or of someone under his protection, with such disrespect."

Clearly flabbergasted, the elder prince said, "Thor…he's under house arrest. Bor's ghost, he's in _prison_."

Icily, Thor said, "Which changes nothing. He is still a prince of the royal household."

"He's a Frost Giant," Tyr hissed.

"He is my brother and a prince of Asgard, and you _will_ speak to him and of him with respect, or I shall take this matter to the king," Thor snapped. Wide-eyed, Tyr offered him a mocking, truncated bow and shoved past him, disdaining to bid him a proper goodbye. Thor didn't care. He didn't know what had possessed him to threaten his elder brother with kingly interference, since Odin probably would have done nothing—he'd yet to even reprimand Tyr for his jibing Loki—but the half-insane rage and grief in Loki's eyes had forced Thor to act before he'd actually formed a thought.

Dismissing his elder brother for the moment, the crown prince focused on his younger brother. Loki's forehead was pressed to the glass; he ignored the needle-pricks of the _seiðr_ meant to keep him imprisoned. His hands had relaxed from their tense fists. Now they lay palm-down against the window. Loki's breathing had evened out. He no longer panted for breath like a rabid wolf.

"Why?" Loki demanded softly, not looking up at Thor.

"Why what?" Thor replied, voice just as soft.

"Why did you defend me to him?" Because Loki kept his head bent, Thor couldn't quite gauge the new expression twisting his face. "Maintaining unity among the ranks, were you? Except Tyr is your brother—your _real_ brother. So why?"

A sigh heaved through the prince, then he gestured to a guard for a chair. He'd made provisions to have one brought last night. Now the guard dragged the comfortable seat to the big Asgardian, who dropped into it with another sigh. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and studied his younger foster brother—the bowed head, the slumped shoulders, the exhaustion in every line of his body. Had Loki been sleeping these last months? It seemed likely that he hadn't. Seconds ticked by in silence, then minutes. Loki didn't move. Neither did Thor. It was almost like those staring games they'd played as boys, seeing who would blink first. In the end, they both moved at the same time, Thor leaning back as Loki lifted his head.

Thor folded his arms across his chest. "I'll make you a bargain, Brother. For every question of yours I answer, you answer one of mine. Deal?" He ignored the pang that always shot through him when he thought of deals…when he thought of Jane.

Pale lips pursed as Loki considered. After a moment, the disguised Frost Giant nodded slowly. "Very well…but the answers to the questions must be of equal value. I'll not trade my soul for the knowledge of what you ate for breakfast."

Inclining his head, Thor replied, "Fair enough. Why did I defend you to Tyr? Because you're his brother and he has no right to attack you in such a way; because no matter what you've done, no matter that the king has judged you a criminal, you don't deserve to be tormented by your own kin; and because you're my little brother, and that's what elder brothers are supposed to do for their little brothers."

Pushing away from the glass, Loki scoffed. "When will you get it through your thick skull that I'm _adopted_?"

Unperturbed, Thor asked, "When will you get it through yours that I don't care?" Loki shot him an indecipherable look, but said nothing. "I've known you were adopted since before I came to Midgard to bring you home. Do you think it mattered then? It didn't. It certainly doesn't matter to me now."

"Well, then, what about…" A muscle flexed in Loki's jaw, and his hands convulsed into fists before he forced them to relax. "What about…Thea? She is no kin of yours. Why should you defend her to Tyr?"

"Because it is very obvious to me that you cared about her a great deal," Thor said gently, "and Tyr should respect that, as I do."

This time his little brother's expression was clear as a cloudless sky. "Oh?" He snarled. "_Do_ you?"

"I should not have said what I did before," Thor said. "I was angry. You're very good at provoking me. But then, that's what little brothers are supposed to do to their elder brothers, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised."

Loki stared at him for a long moment, then asked, "Are you drunk?"

Startled, Thor blinked. "No. Why?"

"Did Fandral get you to drink poppy juice again?"

"Get me to…no. Why?"

Long moments of intense scrutiny passed, then emerald eyes at last looked away and Loki said wearily, "Why are you here, Thor?"

"Because I promised you I would listen."

A wry chuckle echoed down the corridor as Loki shook his head. "We both know you're incapable of pulling _that_ off. I told you to go away. So why are you here?"

"Because I promised."

The two brothers regarded each other for a few moments. Loki stood beside the fireplace now, slender arms folded and laid against the side of the fireplace mantel. His face was thin, and paler than ever, his eyes vibrant jade against his unhealthy pallor. There were dark shadows beneath those eyes, firming Thor's conclusion that he hadn't slept, and Thor saw that Loki's nails on the hand closest to the window were ragged and torn to the quick, bloodied in places. Scrapes marred his knuckles. What had he been doing to himself?

"My turn for questions now," Thor said, "unless you have something else you wish to ask." When Loki shook his head, the prince asked, "How did Thea die?" Because if Loki had killed her, then there was no point in continuing the conversation; if Loki could kill someone he cared for as deeply as he obviously seemed to care for Thea, then he was capable of anything, any treachery.

Dropping his chin to rest atop his forearms, Loki replied in a tight voice, "The Chitauri killed her. Poison."

"Were you with her?" Thor pressed.

A slow, somber shake of the head as jade eyes stared off into the distance, gazing down roads of memory. "No…but I should have been."

Baffled, Thor asked, "Why?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, shifting to grip the mantel tightly with one hand, Loki drew a short, sharp breath. Let it out slowly, as if fighting for control of himself. He bowed his head; his hair fell around his face like an inky curtain, obscuring Thor's view of his expression. He rasped, "Why does it matter?"

"Because you feel guilty for not being with her when she died," Thor said gently. "I want to know why." When Loki said nothing, he added, "Do you remember when we were boys, and Tyr stole your favorite storybook? Ripped out the pages and threw the binding on the midden pile? You remember that; I can see you do." Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, but when Thor just stared at him, he gave a grudging nod. "You remember how Mother found you crying in your room and you wouldn't tell her what had happened? You wouldn't explain to Father, to Víðarr or Hermod or even Balder, and we could _always_ talk to Balder. You wouldn't speak to anyone…but you spoke to me. You trusted me then."

"I was a boy," Loki said coolly. "Children will trust where they shouldn't. Look at your precious mortal. Midgardians are very much like children, and your little Midgardian trusted in your promise to return…and yet here you are."

Anger flashed through the Asgardian prince, but he swallowed it back—with difficulty. Giving into his anger had pushed Loki away every time. He couldn't afford to let that happen. It seemed as if, despite his younger brother's reticence, they were making a little more headway. He wouldn't let that progress slip through his fingers. So he tamped down the irritation and regret that always plagued him when he thought of Jane, and focused on his little brother.

"I wish you would trust me, Loki."

"Yes, of course I'm going to trust you when _you_ are the reason I'm here in the first place instead of with—" He cut off abruptly, glaring fiercely at the prince. A malevolent spark burned in the depths of absinthe-green eyes.

"Tell me," Thor said softly. "What were you going to say? Who are you supposed to be with? Tell me, Brother."

But his brother shook his head. "I will not be tricked into baring my soul for your twisted pleasure, Odinson. I owe you no answers."

"You promised to answer my questions, Brother. I'll forego the second to receive an answer to the first—why do you feel guilty for not being with her when she died? Because you could have saved her?"

"No," Loki spat. "I couldn't have saved her. _You_ made sure of that."

"Then why—"

"Because I _promised_ her!" Loki suddenly snarled, taking a single shaking step toward Thor. A feverish light burned in his eyes as he cried, "She was afraid to die alone. She was so afraid, and so I promised her, only to be far from her side when she succumbed at last. Because of _you!_ She died, alone and frightened and in pain, _because of you!_"

"Loki—"

"Do you know what Chitauri poison _does?_ To a woman? To a _child?_ To an…" He trailed off and turned away, to slam his fist into the wall. It left a smear of blood on the white stone, but it didn't seem to affect Loki at all. Pressing his hands flat to the wall, he hunched his shoulders and bowed his head, mumbled something so softly under his breath that Thor couldn't hear it.

"Loki…Brother, I never meant…"

His brother twisted around, green eyes blazing, and he fixed the Asgardian prince with a hostile look. "I don't _care_ what you meant. That doesn't bring her back. That doesn't bring _either_ of them back! That doesn't erase the fact that Thea's last hours were filled with suffering and agony. I was told her death was a hard one, that she died cursing my name with her last breath for betraying that vow. But then, I suppose you're not surprised that I didn't keep my promise. After all, I'm _never_ sincere, am I?"

Thor stared at him, at the way he shuddered, the sweat dampening his forehead and temples, the anguish in his eyes. Suffering and agony…because of Thor, because he'd stopped his little brother from murdering innocent people…at least, that's what Loki claimed. Though he wasn't certain of the verity of the details, Thor believed Thea _had_ died, and died a hard death, for it to strike Loki so.

"I'm sorry, Loki, for what happened to her," Thor murmured. And he was; surely his brother could see that. After struggling with the idea that it might not be the best question under the circumstances, Thor finally asked his brother, "Did you love her?" He knew the answer, or was fairly certain he did…but he wanted to hear what Loki would say.

He scoffed, sounding weary again. He leaned against the mantel. "Don't be stupid. I? Love a mortal? A mere child compared to our kind? You really are a blithering idiot, Thor."

And yet…the words didn't quite ring so sincerely this time. Or was that lack of sincerity just another ploy of Loki's to manipulate his foster brother? Ignoring his brother's hostility—the only way they'd actually have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes that didn't involve curses and shouting—Thor asked, "What were you muttering before?"

"Nothing," Loki snapped, his expression hardening. "A bit of verse that seemed apt; you wouldn't know it, it is from Midgard." A momentary softness crossed his face. "Thea told it to me," he said, as if to himself. "She had a gift for remembering such things."

"Will you not share it with me?"

Loki shot him a look that plainly said he was intruding on some important private recollecting with his very stupid question. "Why? It's not important."

"Then why not tell me?"

Shoving off from the mantel, Loki replied, "Because you're wasting my time. But since you'll not cease whining for it like a neglected puppy, I suppose I must indulge you." Staring into the fire, voice empty of any emotion, he recited as if dead, "_'What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been her timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left…_'" There was a hitch in Loki's voice, just the slightest waver, before he concluded, "_'And left no friendly drop to help me after?_'"

Wondering how to keep Loki talking, Thor murmured, "I didn't know her fate was mixed into the balance, Brother. Why didn't you tell me about her?"

Exhausted emerald eyes flicked to him, then away. "It wouldn't have changed anything; you wouldn't have believed me." A pause, then Loki asked in an emotionless voice, "Do you even believe me now?"

"I see how much her death has hurt you."

Verdant eyes drifted shut. "Oh, you see, do you, Brother? You _see_. Tell me, what do you know of pain, Thor? What have you ever truly lost during the span of your perfect life?"

"For one terrible night and day, I thought Father was dead," Thor said coolly, and he thought he saw Loki flinch, almost imperceptibly…but it might have been his imagination. "You told me Father was dead. You looked me in the eye and lied to me, made me think that the last thing I'd ever said to my father, the last thing I would _ever_ be able to say to him, was that he was an old man and a fool." Loki said nothing, but his expression seemed to soften for a moment, and his eyes when they opened seemed full of sorrow. Acting on instinct, Thor didn't push the moment of softening. He merely asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could, "And what of the child, Sophie? How did she die?"

Loki's eyes widened and his features twisted as if he'd been stabbed. His hand crept toward his heart before tightening into a fist. He squeezed his eyes shut. For several moments his throat worked convulsively, and he swallowed hard. The color drained from his face. Thor had to fight the urge to jump to his feet and demand if his brother was all right.

"Poison," Loki choked out, and the misery and hatred saturating that one word struck Thor like a fist to the belly. "The same as her…the same as Thea. And for that, when my sentence is ended here, I will hunt down Thanos, even if I must sojourn to the ends of the universe, and I will drive a sword through his heartless chest. I'll have his blood, even if I have to crawl over broken glass for it. Even if I have to drink it. Nothing in this universe will stop me from killing him."

Loki locked eyes with Thor and the crown prince's brow furrowed. Somehow, in the light, his brother's eyes looked almost electric blue. It was there for a moment, a flicker of all-too-familiar cerulean, before it faded away, leaving only viridian in its wake. Had the crown prince simply imagined that change? He couldn't be sure, but it reminded him of…of something. Nonplussed, Thor tried to find something to say, but could think of nothing. He could only stare at his brother, at the mad gleam of hatred burning in his gaze, before Loki cleared his expression of all emotion.

With a sigh, Loki moved to the table and sank into his chair. Papers covered the smooth wooden surface of the table, many filled with Loki's handwriting. A few seemed to display unfinished sketches, but they sat at such angles that Thor couldn't decipher them. For several long moments Loki shifted papers to and fro, eyeing them with a strange apathy. Then he held up his pointer-finger as if in warning.

"One question left, Thor," he said tonelessly. "Use it wisely."

Buying time to figure out a good question, Thor sat back and watched his brother as Loki picked up a half-done sketch and studied it with an unearthly intensity. Emerald eyes narrowed as they took in every charcoal-etched feature. The Asgardian prince wished he was in a position to see the drawing but…wait…

"May I see that?" Thor asked, a spark of triumph beginning to grow in his chest. If Loki was drawing the Midgardian woman who seemed to constantly occupy his thoughts, then at last Thor could put a face to her. But his hopes plummeted when his brother sneered and denied him. So much for getting his hands on one of the drawings. Ponderous silence descended once more.

At last, unable to think of anything more pertinent, he asked, "Why did the Chitauri even _have_ a child like Sophie?"

Loki sighed, shoulders slumping. He dropped the drawing to the table and let his head fall backward against the chair. Closing his eyes, he passed his hands over his face, as if attempting to smooth away any telling emotions. Thor merely waited for his brother to speak. At last Loki said, "If I say this, I want no more questions. I will answer no more questions. Do you hear me? You will leave me in peace."

"As you wish, Brother. After this, I'll go. You'll not see me until tomorrow."

"Very well," Loki murmured. "The Chitauri had Sophie because they had Thea…and because they'd captured me."

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_**Author's Note**__: well, what do you guys make of that? Hmmm? Any theories? Of course__ I __know what it means, but I'm curious as to what my readers think. And while my beta is being kind enough as to read this fic, she isn't asking any questions, which depresses me, because you all know I like to tease. So PLEASE ask questions! Love you all! Ta-ta!_


	6. Deep in the Dark

_**Author's Note**__: so everyone say thank you to wbss21! They reviewed and made me so happy, I decided to post the next chapter! Loves to them! Hope you all enjoy this chap! By the way, "Deep in the Dark" is one of my favorite songs. It's the lullaby from the animated__ Charlotte's Web._

_._

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Chapter Five  
Deep in the Dark

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"The Chitauri had Sophie because they had Thea…and because they'd captured me."

"Because they'd captured you?" Utterly baffled, Thor shook his head. "I do not understand. Were you and Thea bait with which to trap Sophie?" Loki shook his head, looking exasperated. "Loki, I don't understand. Explain it to me, please."

But Loki merely shook his head again. "You're out of questions, Brother, and you gave me your word you would leave me in peace. Go now."

"Loki—"

His brother bit out from between clenched teeth, "Get. _Out._"

Instinct told Thor that pushing Loki now would be a very bad idea. There was a brittle tension in him that the other prince could sense, even though Loki held himself stiff and aloof from Thor. So the crown prince inclined his head in acquiescence, even though everything in him clamored to stay with his little brother, and Thor left the dungeons. He had much to think about…and just perhaps, a plan to set in motion.

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The sun rose and set at least three dozen times without any more progress being made regarding discovering the story of Loki, Thea, and the child known as Sophie. As before, when Loki sensed Thor's presence he would stop whatever he was doing and either sit at the table or lie down on his cot and stare at the ceiling until his foster brother went away again. He hardly responded to any of Thor's questions or promptings, except a few times when the crown prince came to see his brother late in the night. Sometimes then, Thor would speak to Loki for hours at a time, only to receive a small bit of information in return.

"Did you know anything about her family?" Thor might ask near the end of the night.

"Her mother is a musician," Loki would say. "Her father was a brute and a fool that abandoned Thea, her mother, and her siblings."

"What did she look like?"

"You've never seen someone so lovely."

"How old was she?" Thor might ask.

"Too young to die so brutally," Loki would reply, tone arctic, cutting Thor to the bone. "Too young to be caged in the dark and then murdered thanks to the treachery of a supposed kinsman."

But these exchanges were brief and rare. Through them all ran one common vein, however—Loki would, no matter the cost, deliver swift and brutal justice to the Chitauri ruler, Thanos, for what he'd done to Thea and Sophie after he was released from the Asgardian prison. And because of that, Thor at last had something to bargain with. He merely needed his father to agree.

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"Absolutely not," Odin snapped.

Thor gritted his teeth, but didn't lash out under the influence of the hot frustration boiling in his blood. He'd learned his lesson after those three days spent on Midgard. He'd learned what it felt like to know that the last thing ever spoken to a loved one were words drenched in cruelty. So instead of snapping back at Odin, he drew a deep breath and fought for calm.

It had been nearly two months since that last full conversation with Loki. Thor chafed under the need to know more of his brother's story. Something, some instinct, told him that time was of the essence. Now he, his mother, and his father sat alone in his father's conference room, discussing the matter. Rather, Thor was petitioning Odin for help.

"Father…if Loki is telling the truth…if the Chitauri did what I suspect—imprisoning him, torturing him, and then killing the woman he loved and a child he cared for—do we not owe it to him, and to them, to see them avenged?"

"You should know better than anyone that your…that Loki is incapable of truthfulness. He's manipulating you. He would never fall in love with a Midgardian. Or do you not recall his words to the Midgardian warrior known as Fury? 'An ant has no quarrel with a boot.' That is what he thinks of mortals. Does that sound like a man in love? Does that sound like someone who is being forced to conquer a world? He sought to rule them, not save them. He cared for no one's well-being but his own. Certainly not this Thea or this Midgardian child."

But the crown prince shook his head. "Father, I'm telling you—he spoke with real sincerity! Whoever Thea was, he loved her, and the Chitauri ruler murdered her. I think they were forcing him to lead the invasion by threatening her and then…" And then he'd gotten in his brother's way. The Asgardian warrior couldn't regret saving Midgard, helping his new mortal friends and allies…but if he'd known about the woman his brother clearly loved, how would it have changed things? "I believe the Chitauri blackmailed Loki somehow, using Thea and perhaps Sophie."

Odin scoffed. "How? What was this child to Loki? Surely not his own offspring."

Thor shook his head. "I don't see how she could be; she was too old in the illusion he conjured. But he _does_ care for her. I could see that plainly in how he spoke to her. Somehow he allowed himself to soften towards this child and this woman."

Leaning back in his chair, he turned to Frigga, who sat beside him, quiet and somber in her navy blue gown. Thor bit back a frown. His mother had yet to change out of such dark colors, even now that they'd found Loki and brought him home. Where the strain of Loki's treachery had manifested in his father as more lines marring his weathered face and a thinning of the thick white hair and snowy beard, it had unfolded in the queen as melancholy impervious to everything Thor and his brothers attempted to raise her spirits.

Frigga brushed her hair back, tucking a stray bronze lock behind her ear. "Thor…I want to believe Loki can be…helped, just as much your father does. Just as much as you do. But what you're proposing is madness. It could spell ruin for the entire kingdom, perhaps even all nine realms. Loki cannot be trusted as yet."

"Mother, I know him. I _know_ him. Let me try this. Let me attempt to bargain with him. After all, he is the one who must convince Father that he is trustworthy. I'll make certain he understands that. Please, Mother…I truly believe that this will work. Won't you let me try? Father, please."

The king and queen exchanged uncertain glances, then Odin turned back to his son. The single burning blue eye roved over Thor's features as if searching for some sign. The crown prince didn't know what his father sought; he only gazed back, face regal and gaze beseeching, hoping with all his heart that his father would trust him in this. If Loki was telling the truth…it changed many things. Not everything, but a great deal.

At last Odin sighed. "Even if you are right, even if Loki was blackmailed regarding the mortal realm…what of his betrayal before the shattering of the Bifröst? What of his attack against you? He sent the Destroyer to kill you, attempted to slaughter the Frost Giants. Has he made some excuse about that?"

"No, but I can speak to him about it. My instincts tell me there is more there than any of us know yet. I feel…" Thor lifted his hands as if he could grasp the words from the air. They curled into fists as he sighed. "Father, I feel there is more to all of this than we know."

"And you believe you can convince Loki to give up his secrets so easily?"

"Not easily," Thor contradicted. "But he thirsts for vengeance against Thanos and the Chitauri. It burns in him, Father. I can see it. We can use that to our advantage. Please, Father, let me try!"

Silence stretched between the king and his heir as they regarded each other. Thor couldn't read his father's expression. Would Odin understand that Thor could feel something, some small part of Loki, reaching out to him? Like a drowning man desperately reaching for a safe shore, Thor's younger brother strained toward him, even while his grief-fueled, half-mad rage held him back as surely as iron chains. How to convince Odin of this? Without the full story of what had happened after Loki fell from the Bifröst, Thor didn't think there was a way to make his father believe.

But finally, the king of Asgard nodded once. "All right. Offer him your bargain. We shall see what happens."

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More than a fortnight went by without response from Loki; whenever Thor was there, Loki seemed to be sleeping. The crown prince suspected his brother of faking it, but couldn't be certain.

Yet on the fifth day of the third week, Thor felt something ice-cold and piercing the moment he stepped into the dungeons. _Seiðr_, sparking and buzzing with power, rippled through the air and hummed along the corridor leading toward Loki's cell. A fleeting panic lanced the crown prince, but he suppressed it. Last time he'd felt such power from his brother's prison, it had been because Loki was summoning the illusion of Sophie. It had been weeks since Loki had attempted such a thing, though. Uneasy, the prince picked up his pace, approaching his brother's cell with caution. He halted just out of Loki's line of sight, so that he could observe the pseudo-Æsir without being seen.

As he had that first time, Loki hunched against the plain white wall of his prison, knees drawn up to his chest. But this time both hands were stretched palm-out before him, shaking with some terrible strain. Loki's sleeves were rolled up and chords of muscle strained against the pale flesh. Sweat streamed down the white brow, plastering strands of ebony hair to temples, cheeks, and neck. A terrible light burned in the verdant depths of his gaze as he watched the twining shadows and wisps of emerald light twist together to form the familiar illusion of the dark-haired child Loki called Sophie.

Loki's breath whistled between his clenched teeth as he struggled against the bonds of his prison. The _seiðr_ that the All-Father had placed around the prison and laced throughout the room vibrated and hummed as Loki fought to bring his spell to fruition. The ensorcelled glass shield rattled in its casement with the force of the magic battering at it, but his little brother ignored it as he twisted his hands back and forth, as if weaving the magic of the illusion. A thin trickle of blood leaked from both nostrils as Loki leaned forward, brow furrowing in fierce concentration. Wrinkles snarled across Loki's forehead and between his eyebrows.

"I must," Loki whispered, eyes narrowing. "To avoid it is…is cowardice. I must do this." Taking a deep breath, the prince stretched his hands out toward the child and seemed almost to smooth down the air in front of it. As Thor watched, the illusion began to shrink.

No, Thor realized. Not shrink. The girl was getting younger. The dark curls shortened, the child's body slimmed out and shrunk down as the limbs grew shorter, plumper with baby fat. Loki's entire body was shaking violently as this point. His breath came in ragged gasps and his chest heaved with the effort of manipulating the illusion. Wetness gleamed in his emerald eyes. Anguish twisted the pale features. Thor frowned. What was his brother doing? And why?

When the illusion showed a child of perhaps two years of age, suddenly Loki jerked his hands back with a sharp intake of breath that was almost a sob. Clutching his hands to his chest as if wounded, he whispered, "I cannot…I cannot. Thea, forgive me, I cannot bear to…"

Somehow the illusion held—though Loki shuddered and sweated—an illusion of a two-year-old girl with wisps of baby-fine black hair in a green velvet smock embroidered in gold, typical Asgardian dress for a child that age of a rich family. The stuffed black bear with its green eyes had made a return, as well, clutched now in the chubby arms of the toddler. The girl's small head was bent over the bear so that Thor couldn't see her features.

Why had Loki made her younger? Was he trying to remember a time before the Chitauri? But no, he'd met Sophie after being taken prisoner by the Chitauri, he'd said. Unless he'd been lying. Why was he changing the illusion?

In a voice choked with grief, Loki whispered, "Oh, Sophie…you look so much like your mother. I always wondered if…wondered…little one, forgive me. Forgive me for what they did to you. I'm so sorry."

The illusion lifted its head, but the fall of dark curl and the angle prevented Thor from seeing anything but the chubby roundness of Sophie's cheek and the delicate curve of her ear. She must have done something, however, because a look of intense pain flashed across Loki's face and he reached out one trembling hand to her. His fingers touched her cheek before he lifted his hand and laid it atop her head. The thin lips formed a trembling smile and to Thor's astonishment, a tear welled up from the wet green eyes and spilled down Loki's cheek.

"You would have been so beautiful when you grew up," he whispered. "Just like your mother. I'm so, so sorry, _älskling_. I'm so sorry."

He slumped back against the wall as the vision faded and closed his eyes. Thor watched in heartbroken silence as his little brother, who always tried to appear so strong, so indifferent, quietly fell to pieces. A few silent tears slid down his cheeks before he dropped his face into the cup of one hand and merely sat there, silent and still save for the occasional shudder racking his long, lean frame. At last he dropped his head back and heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Thea," Loki murmured, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't do it. I cannot look at her as…as she…I cannot do it. Forgive me."

Loki had sat in silence for several long minutes before Thor had the courage to step out of the shadows and call his brother's name. Loki didn't look toward him; merely closed his eyes and sighed.

"I am not in the mood today, Thor. Go away."

"I've come to make a bargain with you," the crown prince said, as if he hadn't seen his brother weeping over the changed illusion of a little girl only moments before. "I want to know what happened to you after you fell from the Bifrost."

Without his customary sneer, Loki murmured, "Don't you know it is unhealthy to get everything you want?"

Coming to a stop just at the window, Thor said, "We can both have what we want. I have spoken to Father, and he is willing to obey the conditions of this bargain. If you tell me what happened to you—the entire truth, all of it, and you can convince Father—then we will help you get your revenge on Thanos."

Now Loki looked at him, brows slightly furrowed, mild incredulity on his face. Dark shadows circled his eyes; Thor thought he looked a bit like he had on Midgard after the Chitauri had sent him there. How had he not noticed how sick Loki had looked then? Well, other than because he'd been preoccupied with stopping his brother from slaughtering the Midgardians.

"You will…help me…kill Thanos," Loki said. Thor nodded, never taking his eyes from his brother's face. Loki shook his head slowly, obviously puzzlement twisting his features. "Why would you do that?"

"To kill the villain who murdered the woman my little brother loved."

Closing his eyes, Loki turned his face away. "What do you know about it? Nothing. I never said I loved her. And I doubt the All-Father is going to let me out just so I can seek my revenge."

Thor shrugged. "He has sworn it to me and to Mother. Why would you doubt him?"

The sardonic look Loki hit him with could have drawn blood from a stone. "Forgive me, Brother, but _that_ is a _very_ stupid question. I wouldn't trust the All-Father as far as I could throw him."

"Then trust _me_, Brother. Have I ever deceived you?" When Loki said nothing, Thor ran a hand through his hair and tried to think. Sometimes when his little brother was being particularly obstinate, he could get Loki talking by changing the subject a little. Asking a different question. But what question? There were so many he still had…but one, Thor thought, that he really should have asked a while ago.

He had a choice, the crown prince realized. He could satisfy his own curiosity, or he could ensure that the Chitauri weren't as much of a threat as they all feared. That was, of course, assuming Loki was telling the truth…and assuming Odin believed whatever his foster son said, truth or not. That was why Thor had made the All-Father's belief a hinge-point for Loki's plans for revenge.

"Tell me, Brother…could Thea _truly_ destroy an entire realm with merely a wave of her hand?"

To his surprise, Loki threw back his head and laughed. There was just the faintest mocking edge to the foster prince's amusement, but Thor ignored it. When he'd finally stopped laughing, the pseudo-Asgardian said, "You really are a fool, Thor. Of course she couldn't. No Midgardian I know of possesses that much power. Even Odin cannot do that without the use of his mighty Infinity Gauntlet. You'll believe anything, won't you?"

_Bratling_, Thor thought, but didn't say aloud. Now wasn't the time to indulge in insults. Instead, glaring, Thor demanded, "Had she any power at all?"

The amusement on Loki's face vanished like night mist in the morning sun, to be replaced by something betwixt wistful pain and awe. "Oh, yes. Hers was the wonder of dreams brought to fruition, the power to make memories live again, the magic of illusion as real as life." He held up his hand, curled into a fist, then snapped open his long fingers, flexing them. Staring at his empty palm, Loki murmured, "That was her gift, and the Chitauri desired to study it and its myriad effects once they saw what it could do in battle." Shaking himself as if from a dream, the other prince said coolly to the Asgardian, "But I'm a bit busy at the moment, Brother, so perhaps you'll be a decent fellow and leave me alone. Go polish your helmet."

A muscle twitched in Thor's jaw. Would his brother _never_ cease mocking him over that blasted helmet? As if his was any better. Feathers versus cow-horns, as they'd jibed each other often enough. But instead of snapping, Thor said, "One last question. A simple one."

"Erm…no."

"It's a very simple question, Loki, it will cost you nothing. In the illusion of Sophie, she held a stuffed bear; black, with green eyes. Where did she get it?" When Loki hesitated, eyeing Thor warily, the prince shrugged. "A simple enough question, is it not?"

A blatant challenge, that. One Loki could not back down from—his pride wouldn't allow it.

After an excruciating silence, broken only by the crackle of flames and Loki's increasingly harsh breathing, the adopted prince said tersely, "_I_ made it for her…but I never had the chance to gift her with it." Seeing Thor's expression, he added in a voice sharp with accusation, "She was murdered before I had that chance."

And Thor thought of his foster brother weeping silently for the dead child, and felt something twist savagely in his heart. "I _am_ sorry, Loki."

Loki sneered. Viciousness twisted his features and that icy hatred, which Thor had hoped he wouldn't see today—it had been absent until now—filled his brother's gaze like abyssal fire. "Oh, you're _sorry_. Tell me, Thor, what do you dream of these days? Is it still the glories of war and the pleasure of women?" Before Thor could reply, his younger brother spat, "Do you know what I dream, Brother? Do you know what fills my slumber?" Numbly the crown prince shook his head. "A woman's screams and the sound of a…" Suddenly Loki frowned. Something that might've been horror flickered in his eyes before vanishing. "What is that?"

Puzzled, Thor scanned the corridor, but saw nothing. All was emptiness and shadows dancing across the walls. He turned back to Loki. "What's what?"

"That sound…don't you hear it?"

Thor listened, but there was only the steady drum of his heart and his breathing mingled with his brother's. "I hear nothing. What is it?"

But his younger brother shook his head. "Nothing. My imagination, I suppose." But Thor knew Loki was lying, even as he said, "It doesn't matter. Go away, Thor. You've used up my patience; now you're boring me."

"Tell me what happened, Brother," Thor said softly. "What happened when you fell from the Bifröst? If you tell me, I can help you avenge them. Tell me."

"I owe you no answers."

"Loki, I'm trying to _help_ you! I'm trying to understand! Why do you fight me? Why won't you let me help you?"

In a voice that was a mere thread of sound, a thread that threatened to strangle Thor, the foster prince said, "You can't help me, Thor. Every time I look at you I see Thea's blood on your hands. I see Sophie…_my_ little Sophie…her blood…she never even had the chance to…and it was _your_ fault! _Your_ fault they killed her! _Your_ fault she's dead!"

"You didn't tell me! How was I to know?"

"Because you should have _known_ me! You should have _trusted_ me! Why would I butcher innocent people? Why would I invade Midgard, launch an attack on them, without good reason? You should have known there was a reason! You should have left me alone to do what needed to be done instead of interfering!"

Swallowing back sudden rage, Thor demanded, "How was I to know? You tried to kill me, Loki. You usurped the throne in my absence when Father fell into the Odinsleep—"

"Mother declared me king!" Loki snapped, surging to his feet. "I never wanted the throne! I only took it because Balder and Hermod weren't of age, Víðarr was off on his coming-of-age quest, you'd gotten yourself exiled, and Mother—"

"What about the Destroyer?" Thor demanded coolly.

Loki snarled an obscenity under his breath. "We have been over this. What do you want me to say?"

"Explain why you sent it to kill me."

"I didn't," Loki snapped. "I've said this before, if you'd been paying attention. I told it to make sure you didn't come home because if you had, you would have ruined everything."

"Everything? What is everything? What were you trying to do? Slaughter the Frost Giants? Because yes, Brother, I would have 'ruined' your attempt to murder an entire race."

Loki thumped his fist against the glass. "How dare you? I was forced to take drastic action in order to clean up _your_ mess. The Frost Giants had declared war on us, Father was in the Odinsleep, we had _no_ idea when he would awaken, and the Fates only know what other trouble _you_ would have brought down on us. Without Father, we couldn't have won a war against Jötunheim. The Frost Giants would have butchered us all."

Thor stared at him, jaw slightly slack. Loki glared back, eyes blazing with that odd mix of emerald and cerulean again. "What?" Thor mumbled. "You…my mess?"

"I _told_ you to leave the Frost Giants alone. I _told_ you not to go to Jötunheim, I _told_ you to let it go when the Frost Giant lord tried to pick a fight with you, but you—wouldn't—listen. _You_ sparked the war, remember? Not me. I did what I had to do in order to protect Asgard."

Blinking, flabbergasted, Thor demanded, "_That_ is why you did all of that? To stop the Frost Giants? But why kill them all?"

Loki scoffed. "How else did you expect me to stop them? At first, I thought I would simply get rid of Laufey, throw the Giants into chaos so they couldn't move on us. After all, Laufey had tried to kill me once upon a time, and he desperately wanted to kill Odin. But then I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here," the smooth voice deepened into an infuriated snarl, "couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called _friends_. How was I to win a war, if it came to that, without soldiers I could trust? And I couldn't trust them because _you_ were the one they wanted! _You_ were the one everyone loved, Mother and Father's favorite, the true heir to the throne! You left me no choice!"

Unable to shake off his astonishment, Thor said, "Loki…why…but you never said any of this. If this is true, why did you not explain?"

"'If this is true?' Of course you don't believe me," Loki hissed. "I am not a fool, Thor. I know you only mean to pry my secrets from me in the hopes of finding some weapon to use against me. You can tell the All-Father what he can do with his little bargain."

"Loki, please," Thor pleaded, leaning in. "Please. I'm trying to help you. I…I have to know what happened. Tell me, and I will help you get your vengeance, Brother. I swear it. But I must know what happened. You say there is blood on my hands," he added softly. "The blood of the woman you loved and the child you cared for." There was an almost imperceptible flinch from Loki. "I must know how it went, Loki. You must tell me."

For a long moment, Thor didn't know if Loki had even heard him. He didn't react to Thor's words, didn't so much as bat an eye. But then the emerald eyes focused on the crown prince's face. A savage, mad hatred flared to life in the depths of Loki's gaze. Unease shivered through Thor as that icy loathing filled his brother's eyes and suffused his face, turning it into an inhuman mask.

"You must know?" Loki echoed, voice a mere breath saturated with black rage. "Oh, yes, you must know. You need to know the purity and beauty of the lives you snuffed out. You need to know the depths of your sins. Yes, Brother, I'll tell you. I'll tell you how I met Thea…and how you killed her. And when it's over, you will help me hunt Thanos and put an end to him. Then I'll give you the knife and let you cut your own throat as penance for what you have done."

Blankness descended over Loki's face, erasing hatred and its underpinnings of grief or loss or regret or manipulation. Loki moved to the table and sank down into the chair, never taking his eyes from his brother.

"When you dropped me off the edge of the Bifröst, I tumbled through the void of space, through its deathly cold and its star-spangled blackness until at last I plummeted through noxious silver-gray clouds of some poisonous miasma. At last I hit solid earth. The impact jarred my skull, shattered several bones. Only luck kept me from breaking my neck."

Thor's eyes widened, but Loki seemed not to notice.

"For what felt like an eternity I could do nothing but lie there with my body racked by the pain of my injuries," he continued tonelessly. "What your monstrous green friend did to me was nothing compared to that time. My blood soaked the sand and stones beneath my body and the moon burned white against my eyelids until I saw it always, sleeping and waking. I see it still when I close my eyes. And then _they_ found me."

He was almost afraid to interject, but Loki fell quiet and did not speak for so long that Thor had to ask, "Thea and Sophie?"

Loki shook his head. "No. That would be too easy for you. No, I did not meet Thea for sometime after that and as for…as for Sophie…"

Though his face remained empty of expression, though his tone was as hollow as that of a dead man speaking in a dream, a terrible agony filled his eyes. For Thor, it was as if looking into his brother's gaze was like being raked with poisoned jade talons that burned like acid. It was the same agony he'd seen when Loki had wept over the illusion of a younger Sophie.

"As for Sophie," Loki somehow managed to continue, though his voice shook and his eyes gleamed as if wet. "I did not…I never…I was never allowed…never truly…"

The pale lips quivered and Loki covered his mouth with one shaking hand, looking away. Thor wondered what could possibly crack Loki's composure so. Who _was_ Sophie, that she affected the green-eyed prince so dramatically?

At last, his younger brother spoke again, his voice somewhat steadier. "No, it was not Thea who found me, but the Chitauri. They brought me to their fortress and healed my wounds. Throughout the weeks it took for my bones to knit and my injuries to mend, the second-in-command of the Chitauri armies came to me often with an offer—a command couched in pretty words. I was to join their ranks, for they knew of my powers. They wanted the Nine Realms, and they wanted my help in conquering them. If I agreed, I would become king of my own realm, and win glory for myself and the mighty Chitauri Empire. If I refused…well, one does not refuse Thanos for long."

But Thor knew his younger brother, and knew that receiving an order like that would have been tantamount to a slap in the face to Loki. As proud as Odin had raised his foster son to be and as proud as Asgardians naturally were—as proud as Loki had always been—there was no chance the green-eyed prince had accepted such an offer, threats or no.

"So they imprisoned you."

A regal cant of the head acknowledged Thor's words. "And though I was left to die if I did not give in, though it was as if I'd been sealed away inside a death-casket and left to rot in the wet dark earth like a moldering corpse, I did not give into their demands. I refused to take part in their invasion of Asgard and Midgard."

Thor jolted. "Asgard?" He echoed sharply. "They wanted Asgard?"

Loki smirked. "Thanos, Lord of the Chitauri, fancies himself in love with Death's fairest Avatar, my brother. He slaughters trillions in an attempt to win her favor, in his mad lust to woo her. Of course the Chitauri want Asgard. Don't you understand, Brother? The Chitauri want the universe."

A chill settled in the pit of Thor's stomach. He knew the Chitauri hadn't been killed during their invasion of Midgard, merely thwarted. He knew they could return at any time…or turn their sights somewhere else, like the realm of Asgard. The All-Father would have to be told; Heimdall would have to be enlisted to spy upon the battle-crazed invaders, to monitor their movements should they choose to aim for the home of the Æsir. If it came to war, Asgard would—

"They locked me away in the darkness," Loki whispered. Thor's attention snapped back to his brother, who stared unblinking and unseeing into the hearth fire. His throat worked convulsively for a moment. Then he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself, "The darkness has eyes and teeth, claws to rake and fangs to bite. It presses against your eyes until there is only blackness slithering into your skull to devour your mind. Silence deafens, darkness blinds. Hunger gnaws and thirst burns. They gave me just enough to keep me alive, just enough to keep the pain sharp in my throat and in my belly. I thought I would go mad in the dark. I thought I would shatter under the silence. And then…"

Those sightless eyes suddenly focused again, coming to rest on Thor's frozen countenance. Some of the hollow sickness festering in that gaze faded, to be replaced with a dull sort of agony. Somehow Thor knew just what his brother would say next.

"Then I heard her voice, muffled by the stone wall. It had been so long since I'd heard another being speak. So long. I'd lost count of the days, the weeks…the months. I heard her as she raged at the Chitauri, demanding to know who they were, what they wanted. She shouted that her mother would come after them, would make them pay if she wasn't released…and then she said something interesting. She said that she would never, ever, so long as she lived, use her powers for HYDRA."

Thor's brow furrowed. He knew of HYDRA; Coulson had explained that SHIELD, the Midgardian organization in place to protect the country known as America, had its enemies. The greatest of these was the foreign group called HYDRA. But he'd also been told that most Midgardians didn't know of these organizations…so how had Thea learned of it? Or had Loki plucked the name from the mind of the Midgardian archer known as Hawkeye?

"How did she know of them?" Thor asked, eyeing his brother. Was that the smallest quirk of a smile curving the corner of Loki's mouth? "Was she a member of SHIELD?"

Loki arched a brow. "No. She learned of them from the one you call Coulson."

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_**Author's Note**__: say what, now? Hmmm…where could LA be going with this? Who knows? Now, remember everyone, reviews are loves! So LOVE ME! Lol, I love you guys. Hugs!_


	7. Whispers in the Dark

_**Author's Note**__: so the thing is, we finally get a Loki flashback! Yay! The only thing is…how much of the flashback is Loki actually telling Thor? Hmmm? That's the question, isn't it? Because what you as the readers are getting may not be what Thor's getting. Just an fyi. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember, reviews are love!_

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**Chapter Six  
Whispers in the Dark**

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"She learned of them from the one you call Coulson."

The pain that stung the massive Asgardian at the sound of his fallen comrade's name pricked at Thor's temper. This had to be false. If Thea had known the son of Coul, and if Loki loved her as he seemed to, why had he murdered the Midgardian warrior? Thea and Coulson could not have been friends or even mere allies, or Loki wouldn't have killed him…unless Thea was already dead, and her death had driven Loki to it somehow. Yet Loki had said the Chitauri had murdered her to punish Loki's failure. The timing simply didn't add up. Why would Loki lie about this? This one small thing?

Unless _Thea_ had lied to _him_…but Loki was an accomplished liar and manipulator, a puppeteer without equal. If Thea had manipulated Thor's little brother, wouldn't Loki have noticed?

Loki was a master at pulling the strings of others. What if this entire story was merely another of Loki's attempts to play with Thor? What if Loki had been aware, all this time, of Thor's movements, his intentions to cajole and bargain to ferret out this supposed story of the younger prince's? If Loki had known all those times his foster brother had been watching, observing in secrecy…what then?

"How did your lady know the son of Coul?" Thor asked softly, his voice a rumble like a lion's warning growl. Loki had to hear the danger in it. His eyes narrowed as he studied Thor, and that familiar scornful expression twisted the pale feature. "Why are you smiling?" The crown prince demanded.

Loki shook his head. "You don't believe me." Then he did something Thor would never have expected—he dropped his head against the back of the chair, closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and laughed. His brother stared at him. Loki laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, until he struggled to draw the next breath. Until he had to clutch his sides.

As he did, Thor saw a strange black mark on the protruding bones of Loki's sword-slim wrist, peeking from beneath the hem of his green sleeve. Golden brows drew together. Where had that mark come from? Even at a glance, Thor could see it wasn't ink. So what was it? Asgardians did not customarily tattoo their bodies. Yet another way the adopted prince was different from the rest of the kingdom, Thor thought. What could Loki have felt was so important that he would etch it into his flesh?

But he didn't ask. He only demanded, "What is so blasted funny?"

"You," Loki chuckled, then sighed as his laughter petered out. "You are funny…and despicable. Trust me, you plead. Let me help you, you implore me…yet I can see the disbelief in your face, hear it in your voice. He must be lying—that's what you're thinking, isn't it? That I must be lying, because unless Thea was Coulson's enemy, I would never have hurt him. Oh, you are a fool, Thor." Softly, as if to himself, Loki added, "And so am I."

A sudden flash of long-banked anger flared to life, a bright blaze that set Thor's sapphire eyes smoldering with fury and grief. "I am no fool. You didn't hurt him, Loki. You _killed_ him. You murdered one of my friends, and for what? You _murdered_ him."

One knife-thin black brow arched in sardonic inquiry. "Is that what I did?"

"You know it as well as I," Thor raged. "Don't stand there and mock my pain, my grief! How dare you? How dare you disdain a friend of mine, a comrade, when you murdered him in cold blood?"

"Murdered him?" Loki echoed, voice suddenly eerily empty. "I murdered your friend? Someone you cared for, respected? I hurt you by killing someone who mattered to you?"

Thor slowly shook his head, feeling the anger like a cool frost spreading through his veins and chilling his blood. He felt cold down to his bones. "No," the prince said slowly. "No, Brother. Blame me if you must for the deaths of Thea and the child, but you cannot equate that with—"

"_Her name was Sophie!_" Loki yelled abruptly, startling the nearby guards. They shifted back into tense attention with soft clinks from their armor. Eyes blazing that strange cerulean, the Frost Giant roared, "You _know_ her name! Damn you, Thor Odinson, for speaking of her that way. Your o—" Loki cut himself off, gritting his teeth as if to bite back the words. A shudder rippled through him and he sucked in a sharp breath that whistled through his teeth. "You accuse me of so much without proof, Brother…but then, you always have. I don't know why I'm surprised."

Blue eyes widened. Something pulsed hotly in Thor's chest, a molten hand clutching at his heart and squeezing until he thought he might choke on the tight pain in his breast and surging up into his throat.

"Without proof?" Thor repeated. His voice was just as empty as Loki's had been, but where Loki's had been like a thin veneer of ice across whatever half-mad thoughts and emotions festered in his brain, Thor's hollow voice was a vessel waiting to fill with his infamous, thunderous rage. "Without _proof?_ Perhaps Sif and the Three are right. Perhaps you are mad. I _saw_ you, Loki. Surtur's blade, you stabbed Coulson in the back like a coward right in front of me."

His brother scoffed and turned to stare into the dying fire. "Believe what you will. You always have."

The breath strangled in Thor's throat for a long moment. "I am _trying_ to understand, Loki. I am _trying_. I promised to listen, to believe. I am keeping that promise so far as I am able. Will you not tell me the truth?"

_I saw you kill him_, Thor wanted to rage. _I saw you murder my friend when he tried to stop you from killing me. Me! Your brother! I saw you, Loki! How could you do it__?_ But he didn't ask. He couldn't let his fury and grief rule him now. Not when he'd finally gotten Loki saying something—truth or not—that might help the crown prince understand what madness or evil festered in his brother's mind.

Glacial emerald eyes pinned the crown prince like a needle through a dying insect. The breath wheezed out of Thor's lungs beneath the force of that icy gaze. "I'm giving you the truth, _Brother_. What's wrong? Can't stomach it? Can't believe I would 'murder,' as you put it, someone who stood in the way of doing what needed to be done in order to protect what truly mattered?"

And what was that? Thea and Sophie? Had Thor been right, then, that the Chitauri had used the two Midgardians against Loki? Forcing him to invade Midgard?

Yet Thor said none of this, either. He was learning to be as reticent as Loki, it seemed. Instead, he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Very well, then—the truth, is it? Then how did Thea know Coulson? Was she a member of SHIELD?" If Thea was a SHIELD agent, why would Loki attack them? Why not go to the Midgardian warriors' guild for help in rescuing the woman and Sophie?

"No," Loki replied, once more looking away. "She was not a warrior."

"Then _how?_"

A heavy sigh from the prince within his ensorcelled prison. "Don't you ever _listen?_"

"I _am_ listening," Thor snapped. "Explain it to me."

"Did you ever listen to your fallen comrade?" Loki said, ignoring Thor's demand. "Did you ever listen to _him?_ Because he spoke of her. Both to you, and to the Midgardian in the flying armor. They spoke of her in front of you—her and one other."

Bewilderment consuming his anger, Thor shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A fleeting shadow of a smile curved Loki's mouth. Some of the ice in the green eyes thawed. "Well, that's nothing new, Brother." Thor was gifted with a look of exasperated indulgence. The last time he'd seen that expression on his brother's face, it had been the morning of the aborted coronation, before Odin had sensed the Frost Giants…the Frost Giants that Loki had led into the king's treasure room. An act of treason that his brother _still_ had not explained to him.

"Coulson never spoke of her," Thor insisted, hiding his rising suspicion. Why did Loki have to be so cryptic? It was a game he'd always played, ever since they were children; he'd cultivated an air of superiority and mystique about him, held himself aloof from other Asgardian children at court. Thor and his other brothers had been Loki's only true friends…and, once upon a time, Sif and the Three. But no longer. His comrades and his brothers would never trust Loki again, after what he'd done. Could Thor ever trust Loki, either? "And anyway, how would you even know if he had?"

The indulgence turned just a shade condescending as the other prince replied, "Think about whom you're speaking to, and you'll realize that is a stupid question."

_Forgive me, O Cryptic One_, Thor thought with no little acidity. But he swallowed that acerbity back and said only, "I do not recall Coulson ever mentioning her, Loki. Who was she to him?" _Who was she to you? And Sophie, who was she? What happened to you, my brother?_ He desperately wanted to ask, but knew better than to attempt it just yet.

Loki licked his lips. Thor saw they were cracked and dry, bleeding in places. Tiny jewel-drops of blood stood out against the pale lips. The tip of his brother's tongue swept them away, but the crimson blood welled up again seconds later. Blood and Loki paired together seemed to be a common sight these days. When the green-eyed prince steepled his fingers, Thor noticed that the knuckles of _both_hands were scraped raw and bloody, and blue and violet shadows mottled his fingers, as if he'd rammed his fist into something that refused to yield to his strength.

"If you can't figure it out for yourself like an intelligent man—"

"_Loki_—"

"Then," his little brother said over the fresh growls, "I will have to reveal the secret to you…in due time. For now, leave it be. You will know soon enough who Thea is." A shadow of anguish passed over Loki's pale face. His brows drew together and his eyes darkened. "Who she _was_."

Long moments of silence passed, but Thor said nothing. He was weary of the ongoing game between himself and his little brother. Why did Loki have to play with him this way? Was this some sort of test, to see if Thor was worthy of hearing this tragic story that Loki claimed had driven him to murder and the invasion of Midgard?

An odd prickling sensation at the nape of his neck slowed his thoughts. A test? Yes, he realized. It was a test. Whether to test Thor's willingness to reach out to his brother, or Thor's gullibility, the crown prince had no idea. But it _was_ a test, and that helped his anger cool. A test was a challenge. He was Crown Prince Thor of Asgard, the Thunderer, the heir to the throne, as well as the son of Odin. He could handle—and conquer—Loki's challenge.

"She kept raging," Loki murmured at last.

Thor's focus narrowed to his brother's drawn face, the bruised-looking circles beneath his eyes, the ice-blue veins beneath the paleness of his skin. When Loki began to speak again, Thor realized his brother actually looked a bit…fragile. Fragile and wounded, in a way he hadn't even after Banner had beaten him to jelly against the floor of the Iron Man's towering stronghold.

"She wouldn't stop. I was surprised the Chitauri guards didn't come back to beat her unconscious, she kept at it for so long. I learned later on that she could be quite stubborn…"

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_The girl, the new prisoner, was still screeching at her long-absent captors. It would have been comical, actually, but it had been so long since Loki had heard another voice…so long. So he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the dry, crumbling stone wall of his prison cell and simply allowed the sound of the other prisoner's demands to wash over him, driving back the maddening silence._

_"Let me out! I'm serious, my mother will rip you bozos apart! She's got connections! My professor's going to find me! There's nowhere you can take me where he can't find me! And when he finds me, you goons are going to wish you were dead! Let me out! Now! And take off this stupid collar! I will blow this place to smithereens, you hear me? Smithereens! And my mom's dating a mobster; he'll kill you if you don't let me go right now!"_

_There was a soft_ thump, _like a body hitting stone, and then a steady percussion of something hard against the wall next to his head. Muffled shrieks of outrage came through the wall. Then there was silence._

_No. Not silence. There couldn't be silence. Not more silence, empty and hollow except for the arrhythmic beating of his heart in the cage of his ribs and the harsh animal panting of his breath in the darkness. There had been days, weeks, months of silence. Eons of silence. There could be no more, or he would go mad._

_"Who's there?" Loki croaked, his voice hoarse with disuse. After those first weeks, when he'd screamed for freedom like the girl on the other side of the wall and torn his throat to bloody shreds that could produce nothing more than a raspy wheeze, he'd stopped speaking. It was almost as if he'd forgotten how. Now he dredged up words from the depths of his memory and whispered, "Who's there?"_

_No sound emerged from the ever-thickening silence. Had the girl fallen asleep? So quickly? Had she been attacked by something in the cell and knocked unconscious? Been killed? Or—sick, twisting, gut-wrenching thought—had he imagined her, desperate as he was for some form of contact with something, anything, so long as he was no longer trapped in this empty cell with no one but ghosts and darkness?_

_Water, he thought. He needed water, something to wet his throat. His tongue was thick and desiccated in his mouth, a lump of cracked and dried leather useless for anything. His throat was filled with sand. If he had water, perhaps he could find the volume needed to prove the girl was real. There_ was _someone on the other side of his prison wall. There_ was. _He'd heard her. If she was a figment of his crazed desperation, she wouldn't have used a word like "bozos." A Midgardian word. His figment wouldn't be Midgardian._

_There was no water. Loki remembered this as his good hand fumbled in the dark, through dirt and bits of broken stone. A metal splinter shoved deep into the pad of his thumb. That first shock of sharp pain ripped a rasping oath from his dry lips. Wetness welled up and spilled from the wound down over the dirty flesh of his thumb and across his palm. Without thinking, he brought his hand to his mouth before the precious fluid could drip onto the floor and be lost._

_It was gritty with the dirt on his hands, salty, with a strong essence of rust…but it was wet, and the heavy drop spread across his tongue, easing the painful dryness there. In his greed for that wetness, his chapped lips split. More blood welled. He drank it up eagerly, feeling a freshness in his mouth he hadn't felt in over a moon._

_Blood wouldn't do the trick for long, Loki knew, but it would give him enough time to catch the attention of the prisoner in the next cell. He took a moment to pull the long splinter out of his thumb with his teeth; the metal spike slid from his flesh with a scraping sound audible to his sense-deprived ears._

_He slammed his palm against the stone wall with a meaty smack and demanded, "Who's there?"_

_From the other side of the stone came the blessed sound of a shocked and very feminine squeak. Rustling, like leaves or cloth, and then he heard that same voice as before—not yelling now, and not quite so full of false bravado. "Hello?"_

_"Who's there?" Loki repeated, feeling the strain in his throat from the effort. Long lines of stinging heat crept from his mouth down his throat toward his chest. "Who are you?" The prince briefly considered that the Midgardian girl might be frightened. Of course she would be. Only an imbecile wouldn't fear being locked in a dank, dark pit and left to rot. "What's your name?"_

_Another long silence, one that pressed on Loki, threatened to swell his head with the roaring deafening absence of sound until his eardrums burst. Then the girl murmured, her light voice splintering the too-quiet dark, "Thea."_

_He didn't know what made him do it—she had no need to know, not really; he could have told her anything he wished…he could have given her his elder brother's name, not his own—but he said in his failing voice, "I'm Loki."_

_"Are you a prisoner too?" Compassion. It surged up into those five simple words like water from a spring, drowning out whatever anger and panic had been in the girl's voice before. Shared suffering; it could make heroes of anyone, under the right circumstances._

_She was focused solely on him, because she didn't want to be alone, either. Alone in the ever-thickening darkness, the hollow void. She was latching onto him. He wanted to caution her not to, because it should have been degrading, disgusting—she was Midgardian, while Loki was a prince of Asgard—but in a distant part of his mind, he knew there was no point. In darkness, there was that small beacon of light—a fellow sufferer. Misery loved company._

_The lines of heat creeping down his throat didn't sting anymore; they smoldered, red as metal first stabbed into the coals of a forge and left to heat and soften. Still Loki said, "Yes."_

_"Where are we?" Thea asked. Her voice kept the silence away. It was Midgardian, but it shoved back the deafening silence. She had to keep speaking. He couldn't bear one more month of soundlessness, couldn't bear another week of nothing but his heartbeat and rasping breath. "Who are these people?"_

_To tell her would frighten her. She might stop speaking, too afraid to make a sound. Midgardians were cowards, after all, and little better than animals when it came to submitting to their baser instincts. An animal startled by a predator would either fly—which she could not do—or hunker down and attempt to wait out the hunter. Yet he could hear the strain in her voice, even through the cold, dry stone. The same strain he'd felt creeping in on him in those first hours and days and weeks in his tiny cell._

_"They are called the Chitauri. We are in one of their dungeons."_

_"I'm in a dungeon?" She repeated incredulously. Then the girl did an unlikely thing—she snorted. Loki could just hear it through the wall. "Well. Okay, then. Gives a whole new meaning to the song, 'I'm a little princess, short and pissed. Here's my foot up your butt and here is my fist…' Chitauri. Who the heck are the Chitauri?"_

_She seemed to be speaking to herself rather than to him. He didn't care, so long as she kept speaking. Her voice held a strange accent—clipped and hard consonants, carefully-formed vowels. A singer's diction. Loki tried to memorize her voice, because the Chitauri might have put her here to give him a taste of contact, a thin and flimsy shield against the lonely dark, only to take her away again in the hopes of shattering his resolve. He licked his lips. Tasted blood. He would not submit. He would never succumb. Nothing they did could make him._

_"Are they aliens?" The girl asked. The question startled him. What did Midgardians know of life from other worlds? But the girl appeared to be serious. She_ sounded_serious, at any rate. "Like the Shi'ar?"_

_Loki frowned. The grit on the wall ground into his cheek as he pressed himself closer. The stone was ice cold, chilling his flesh. "You know about the Shi'ar?"_

_"I learned about them in school," was the startling answer. Her voice sounded closer, but wavered as if it were moving. It came stronger as she drew nearer to where his head rested against his side of the wall. "So, what do these Chitauri want? What are they doing with us?"_

_Us, he thought. Already, in her mind, they were "us." Two parts of a whole, simply by virtue of their common enemy, and the joint torment of their imprisonment. And she wasn't breaking down, crumbling to pieces under the weight of her fear. How long would that last? How long before she realized her mother, with all her supposed connections, and her all-powerful professor would never be able to find her, here on this world of darkness and cloying fog and moonlight?_

_"They want to use us," he said, because he had no other answer—he was too weary, too thirsty, the pain in his belly like some ravenous beast, his strength fading as the taste of blood soured in his mouth—and to keep silent would encourage her to do the same, and that couldn't happen. He'd been alone in the alien womb of the dark, waiting to be ground up and absorbed into the shadows and the stones. He couldn't be that way again._

_"Yeah, that's not happening," the girl muttered. Loki realized that he, too, had said "us." As if they were a unit. As if they were comrades against the Chitauri, against their captivity. As if the girl had something the Chitauri wanted. But she must have had something, or why bring her here? Why not simply snap her neck back on Midgard and leave her corpse for the worms?_

_"How did they get you?" Loki asked._

_"Family camping trip," Thea replied dismissively, as if the very idea of encamping in the woods to spend time with loved ones was a waste of time. Yet he heard the slight hitch in her voice when she spoke the word "family."_

_All at once, the image of eyes the color of strong ale and hair like thickened honeyed mead came into Loki's mind, stealing like a thieving shadow into the confines of his skull, lodging like a poison-tipped arrow in his heart. A single blue eye replaced the brief flash of Frigga's face; a blue eye stern with kingship, but bright with a father's love. He saw four men wrestling together like overgrown boys, laughing and tossing out petty insults to goad the others._

Mother, _Loki thought before he could censor the word._ Father. My brothers…Thor, where are you now? Have you given me up for dead? Thor, I should never have let go. I should have held onto you, to Father. To my home. Forgive me, Mother. Forgive me, Thor.

_"How did they get you? How long have you been here?" Thea asked then, her voice hesitant. No, there could be no hesitation. He needed the sound of her voice to fill the dark. He would have to answer her._

_"They captured me in…" He had to think. What was the Midgardian term? "In April," he concluded. How many months had passed since then? How much of his life was gone now?_

"_April?" Thea's voice was sharp with horror, almost sharp enough to cut. "But…but it's October."_

_At least six months, then. He'd been in prison for at least six months. "They came upon me when I was wounded," Loki replied, feeling the flesh inside his throat gasping for moisture. He sucked a few drops of blood from his lips to wet his parched throat, a feeble and fleeting reprieve._

_There was a sharp gasp from the other side of the wall. It echoed in the dark cell. "You're hurt? I know some first-aid, maybe I can help. Walk you through what to do. How badly are you hurt?" Desperation edged her voice, sharp as a knife blade. Panic. If he was hurt, he could be dying. That was what she feared; Loki knew. If he died, she would be alone in the dark. Of course she would seek to aid him, to prevent the loss of her only companionship._

_"I've healed," he said tonelessly, as if it mattered not at all. In truth, he hadn't healed yet. His ribs were still mending from his last torture session with the Chitauri; his broken arm still hung in a sling. Dull pain throbbed through his right knee; something had ripped there when he'd fallen from space to hurtle to the black sands of a Chitauri beach. "Are you hurt?"_

_"No," the girl replied sourly. Was that chagrin he heard? "Just a concussion."_

_Just. False bravado again. Or perhaps the girl was merely stupid. Did it matter? Sound was sound. And if she succumbed to her injury, fell unconscious, there would be no more sound. She could die._

_Something about the thought of a corpse moldering in the room next to his filled Loki with a twisting, knotting, clawing iciness in his belly that threatened to gut him. Thinking of death and decay so close, unable to escape it, as it stretched out fingers of cloying stench and rot and filth made bile burn in the back of his throat._

_"Have you any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?" Loki demanded, remembering the field medicine he'd been taught by Eir, Asgard's mistress of healers. Any of those symptoms could lead to something worse than a mere concussion._

_"I'm okay," she replied. Loki wondered if she were lying. "It knocked me out for a couple minutes, that's all. I had a headache when I woke up but that was hours ago. I should be okay. Are you…are you a doctor?"_

_Doctor, he thought. The Midgardian word for a healer. "No. Are you?"_

_A soft laugh. How odd, Loki thought distantly. How could she laugh? Was she laughing at him? Or was she so stupid that she didn't realize the direness of the situation? Wasn't she afraid? Didn't she realize…there would be no help coming. Not for either of them. They would die in this place, or surrender to the Chitauri. There were no other options._

_"No," Thea said. "I'm a professional tutor. What about you?"_

I was a prince, _he wanted to say_. I was a son, a brother. My father was the king of my country. My brother would have been king after him. My mother is the most beautiful woman in Asgard, and the wisest. I am…I am their bargaining chip. _The thought oozed into his brain like noxious poison and would not be dispelled_. They stole me from where the father of my blood left me to die, and sought to use me as their tool in games politick. I am nothing but another stolen relic.

_"I'm a soldier," Loki replied, because he was too tired to think of anything else that would explain what knowledge might emerge during a later conversation—his understanding of military strategy, combat, politics, war. He was losing his edge in this place, he decided. The utter nothingness was wearing down his honed edge, dulling the sharpness of his mind. How long before he lost that edge completely?_

_Thea sighed. "A soldier, huh? Cool." She sighed again. "I don't believe this. Phil's going to kill me."_

_The name scraped a little at Loki's interest. "Who is Phil?"_

_His voice would give out soon, he thought. He could feel it. The strain and tremble in his vocal chords, the harsh rasping in his throat…he didn't have much time left. He needed water. When would the Chitauri bring him more? He couldn't keep track of time in this place. Without the sun, the moon, the stars…without even a window or a crack in the wall leading to the outside world…_

_"Friend of the family's," the girl said after a moment's hesitation. "He's been teaching me self-defense, how to escape an attacker, blah-blah. He told me not to rely on my powers. I should've listened to him. I'm such an idiot." Before Loki could latch onto the word "powers," the Midgardian added, "And now I'm wearing this stupid inhibitor collar. Ugh. It's cold, too. So I can't use my powers at all. At least they didn't take my backpack and my dufflebag. I wonder why not."_

_"Your packs? What's in them?"_

_More rustling, and a harsh metallic_ zzzzzz _sound. He heard a small grunt of effort. "Not much. My cell phone, a box of matches, my compass, my little mini-flashlights…and my mom's manicure case, apparently. Oookay. Um, a crud-ton of energy bars, and like, seven water bottles. Let me see what else…"_

_Loki's heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to bruise. He felt hollow, sick. Dizziness washed over him, threatening to drown him in the raging tide of his blood roaring in his ears. She had water? His fingers pressed against the stone wall until his nails scratched and dug into the mortar. Water? He swallowed convulsively and nearly choked on the dryness of his throat. Water…_

_"Hey, wait." Thea's voice sounded very close now. Right beneath Loki's chin, in fact, but still muffled by the wall. "I just thought of something. Hang on a second. Can you see this?"_

_A flash of blinding, silver-blue-white light exploded out of the wall, searing Loki's eyes. Pain shot from his eyes through his skull, fragmenting the bone and shattering the world around him. He clapped his less-damaged hand to his face and wheezed in pain. He could hear Thea speaking to him, but he couldn't make out her words beyond the pain, the rushing in his ears, and the after-images from the sudden eruption of light._

_At last the spots dancing across his vision cleared. The pain gradually began to fade. He could just make out the violent sunburst that had blinded him—now a tiny, flickering white light that seemed to illuminate the entire miniscule room. The silvery glow came from a crack in the wall._

_A crack…_

_"Can you see that?"_

_"Yes," Loki croaked, mind reeling. So many possibilities, so many implications, he couldn't grasp them all. If there was a crack in the wall, there was light, there was more than just darkness and a voice, there was more than this cell. There was a world beyond it. There was something outside of this eldritch prison. "I see it."_

_"What's wrong with your voice?" Thea asked suddenly. "You went all croaky." Loki tried to work up enough saliva to speak, but found he couldn't. He couldn't even focus long enough to form the words. All he could think of was the nearness of the water, the tiny unsteady glow through the crack in the wall. The girl said, "Do you need water?" He made a sound that would have been yes if he'd had the strength to speak. "Um…here, hang on."_

Zzzzzz. Snap! Clink-clatter-chrk. Scritch-scritch-scritch. Snap! Chunk. Chink-chunk-chunk. Chunk-chink. Chink-chink-chunk-chink. Chank!

_There was a tiny puff of dust that caught and reflected the soft light, and the pale light increased a fraction. From the other side of the wall, Thea yelped and muttered an oath no lady in Asgard would know (except perhaps Sif), then went back to whatever she was doing. It sounded like…hammering. Loki heard her mumble, "Sorry, Mom," a couple times before the hammering finally stopped. Her voice drifted through the crack, stronger and clearer now. "Put your mouth against the crack. I'm gonna try something."_

_Desperation could make animals of men. It could make murderers of heroes. It could make heroes of untried Midgardian maidens. Loki did as she said, too wickedly thirsty to care what it might look like, what it would be like. He could only think of water, filling his mouth with cool wetness, running down his throat to heal the burning there._

_He tasted dust and cold stone. Sharp bits of mortar landed on his tongue. Then a short, sharp burst of something tepid shot into his mouth. It was lukewarm, almost unpleasantly warm. It had the tang of chemicals to it; Midgardian stuff. It carried silt from the somewhat wider crack in the prison wall._

_It was delicious. Wet. The water filled his mouth, seeping into the dried-out cracks in his tongue. He swallowed the precious mouthful, felt it run down his throat like nectar. There was a pause, and he made a sound. Thea squirted another mouthful of water at him. The silence, once filled with her voice, was now filled with the wet sounds of Loki swallowing thirstily, gasping for breath between drinks._

_She was patient. She was careful not to waste it, and careful to make sure he didn't drink too much too quickly._

_She was a goddess._

_When his throat no longer burned, when he was no longer desperate enough to lick up the moisture from the stone wall, he sighed and leaned back against the other wall. "Thank you," he mumbled, though the words were paltry. There were no words adequate to describe how he felt in that moment. This girl was mercy's avatar. "Thank you."_

_"You okay?" She asked. Her question was followed by several more_ chunk-chink _sounds as the hammering picked up again. "You got enough?" Loki mumbled an affirmative. He didn't care anymore if she was Midgardian. If she was stupid. If she was beneath him. She'd given him water. Blessed, crystal-sweet water. "Hang on, I think I've got…" There was a loud_ ka-chunk, _followed by a hard_click-clack-thud, _and two pieces of stone—one about the size of a large marble, and the other the height of a tapestry needle and as wide as two of Loki's fingers—fell onto Loki's thigh. "Ha!"_

_Loki shifted as soft light—softer than before—emanated from the wall in an irregular shape about the height of his little finger and little wider than an Asgardian gold coin. He peered through the hole._

_On the other side was a dirt-smudged face, blood crusting down one cheek. The hair was dark, that was all Loki could see in the dim light, and plastered to the girl's cheeks and temples with sweat and blood. A streak of gray grime smudged her nose, which might have had freckles beneath all that dirt. Eyes the blue-gray color of the sea after a storm reflected the light from what looked like a miniscule handheld torch about an inch and a half long, held between two fingers. The face grinned, revealing the only part of it not covered in some form of grit or muck._

_"Hi, there," Thea said brightly._

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"She put a crack in the wall?" Thor asked incredulously.

Loki eyed him with mild disgust and sighed. "The crack was already there, you buffoon," the green-eyed prince muttered. A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "There were several, in fact. Her kicking them had helped loosen some of the chunks of stone. She simply widened the cracks out a little." Then a shadow passed over Loki's face. The little smile slipped away. "We didn't understand then why they hadn't taken her packs from her. We understood eventually…but by then, it was far too late."

Thor frowned. "Why did they let her keep them, then?" He felt as if Loki were still speaking in riddles. How much of what Loki had told him was true? And was his brother hiding anything, keeping anything back?

Jade eyes closed wearily. A heaviness seemed to settle over the fostered prince. Loki shook his head slowly, so that his raven hair fell across his brow. Thor could not get over how pale his brother seemed.

"They let her keep the packs because they knew she would put that crack in the wall."

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_**Author's Note**__: so...what do you guys think? How am I doing so far? Hugs for everyone! And for all you guys just about to start school again, good luck!_


	8. A Thousand Words

_**Author's Note**__: I'm updating again! Why? Because I'm rewarding myself for working out twice this week (I'm trying to lose 70 pounds to get to my doctor-appointed weight) and rewarding myself for staying on my diet for an entire week! No junk food at all! I've got a Pepsi in the fridge calling my name, and since today is my reward day, I can actually drink it! Woot!_

_This is also my thanks to This Iz Pointless and wbss21 for reviewing (and super-promptly, too)! I love you guys. And welcome new readers and reviewers. Hugs for everyone! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter._

_**Concerning the Chapter Title**__: this title comes from the phrase "a picture is worth a thousand words."_

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**Chapter Seven  
A Thousand Words**

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_They let her keep the packs because they knew she would put that crack in the wall_.

Thor strode aimlessly through the castle corridors more than five evenings after his last conversation with Loki. He had nowhere he needed to be and much he needed to think about.

Loki had withdrawn after those final words. Something had seemed to crumble within him, and he'd bowed his head and said nothing more, no matter how Thor cajoled. Sensing his brother was at the end of his endurance for one day, the crown prince had retreated from the dungeons, leaving his brother to—what? Grieve for the girl on the other side of the wall? Plot his story further in order to hoodwink everyone? Thor didn't know. He needed to think. And every time he'd gone back since, Loki hadn't seemed to move at all, prompting Thor to yet leave him be.

Sometime during his constant pacing of the palace halls, a light footstep began to echo his. A slim shadow hovered beside and little ways behind him—a quiet and comforting presence.

"Hello, Sif."

The only shield-maiden in Asgard drew abreast of him when he acknowledged her presence. They'd been friends for a long time. She was the only woman he'd ever gone into battle with, the only woman he trusted to guard his back in a fight. Sif was his best friend, as Loki was…or had been.

"You have seen Loki," Sif said softly. Her dark hair was pulled severely back, giving her a harsher look than she normally possessed. Like his father's weathered face and his mother's somber clothes, Loki's betrayal had produced a marked difference in Sif, as well.

For the first time, Thor considered what Loki had said of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, that they'd betrayed him. That his inability to rely even on his closest friends had driven him to take such drastic actions while the king had been in the Odinsleep.

_But then I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here, couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called__ friends. __How was I to win a war, if it came to that, without soldiers I could trust? And I couldn't trust them because__ you __were the one they wanted!_

For the first time, the prince wondered why Sif and the Three had gone against Odin's decree of exile, gone against Loki's order—the order of their ruling sovereign—and come to Midgard to bring Thor home. Had they known of Loki's part to lure the Frost Giants into the Treasure Room the day of Thor's coronation? None of them had said anything about that. Then why bring him back? Not because of the Destroyer; it had arrived after them. Not for what Loki had done to Heimdall, either—that had come after the Gatekeeper had allowed the four friends through the Bifröst.

Sif was waiting for an answer.

"I have seen Loki," Thor acknowledged without breaking stride. "We have struck a bargain, he and I. He will answer my questions if I help him convince the All-Father to release him."

The warrior maiden halted in her tracks. Thor paused. Somehow he knew what she would say even before she spoke.

"Convince the All-Father to release him? Thor, you cannot trust Loki! What madness would possess you to set him loose?"

Sif, Thor thought, was his dearest friend outside of his brothers. He could trust her to keep what he would tell her to herself, and trust her not to rush off to Loki to demand he stop spilling poisonous lies in the crown prince's ear.

"If my father releases him, I have promised him help in killing the leader of the Chitauri." He started walking again.

"Why would he want to kill Thanos? Loki is loyal to him."

Thor shook his head. "I do not believe so, Sif. Loki and I have been talking about the Chitauri, about Thanos, about why Loki did all that he did."

Sif waited. Thor knew she wanted him to simply explain to her what Loki had said…but he needed to couch his words carefully. For instance, he could not share with anyone—save perhaps Frigga and maybe Balder—about the illusion of young Sophie, and how Loki had tried to make her younger. He couldn't give away the knowledge that his younger brother had loved this Midgardian child enough to weep for her. But there were some things he could say, if he were careful.

"And?" Sif demanded at last.

"Thanos murdered someone Loki held dear," Thor murmured after a moment's hesitation. "Loki's thirst for vengeance makes bargaining with him a bit simpler."

Dark eyes studied Thor for a long moment; the Asgardian could feel the weight of Sif's stare like the heaviness of his battle-armor. At last, she nodded. "It is just like him to focus on getting back at someone to the extent of all else…but who was this person? His woman?"

"_A_ woman," Thor acknowledged softly.

"The woman in the drawings?" Sif hazarded.

He wasn't surprised she knew of it; she'd always been shrewd. He nodded. A large part of him itched to catch a viable glimpse of one of Loki's drawings, to be able to see Thea's face with his own eyes. He told Sif this now.

"The woman in the drawings…" The shield-maiden shook her head. "How do you know this isn't some elaborate trap of his to lure you in?"

He shrugged. "I don't, but I _feel_ he is being truthful."

"Has he explained why he murdered your Midgardian friend?"

"No," Thor replied after a long moment where he wrestled with anger and the echoes of disbelief. It still astonished him that his brother had tried to kill him, had _succeeded_ in killing one of Thor's allies. And Loki hadn't even admitted to the fact. Why wouldn't he admit to it? He made no excuse, either, such as with the Destroyer. Loki refused to do anything but mock and attempt to redirect when Coulson was mentioned.

Yet he'd said Thea's connection with the son of Coul would be made clear…and Thea _had_ mentioned a man named Phil who would be angry about her capture, a friend of her family. Was _that_ the connection? That didn't explain Loki's evasion when Coulson was brought up whenever Thor demanded an explanation. There was something there, something more. What was it? Yet another of the mysteries Loki needed to explain.

"Has he explained why he took over Asgard?" Sif persisted.

"Mother made him king," Thor said tonelessly. Seeing Sif's stunned expression, Thor canted his head. "I asked her about it a couple nights ago. No one else could take the throne during Father's Odinsleep. The queen made him king-regent during my exile."

"Then…" Sif looked faintly uneasy. "Then it was according to the law." She frowned. "He must have known somehow when he arranged your exile that she would make him king."

Now it was Thor's turn to frown. "Arranged my exile? What are you talking about?"

"Thor," Sif said as if speaking to a particularly dull child. "Think about it. He arranges for the interruption of your coronation, knowing it will anger you. He knows the king will not do what you wish—"

"Because it was foolish," Thor retorted. "It could have sparked a war. Father was right not to attack Jötunheim just because—"

"And then Loki tells you to go to Jötunheim, even though the king has expressly forbidden it, knowing your temper and their barbarism and arrogance would provoke you, knowing the king would punish you for what you'd done in a fit of temper egged on by none other than your so-called brother." Sif shook her head, as if dismayed by his thick-headedness. "He set you up. Don't you see that?"

_I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here, couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called__ friends…__couldn't trust them because__ you __were the one they wanted_! You _were the one everyone loved_…And before that, what had his brother said? _I__ told __you to leave the Frost Giants alone. I__ told __you not to go to Jötunheim, I__ told __you to let it go when the Frost Giant lord tried to pick a fight with you, but you—wouldn't—listen._

The thing was, Loki _had_ told him all those things…yet Sif suspected him of arranging matters. Did the Three suspect the same? Was that why they'd gone to Midgard to bring Thor back?

Had Loki told him all of that, knowing how Thor would react, in order to bring about the outcome he'd wanted?

_Thor, stop and think,_ Loki had cautioned when he'd wanted to launch his fist—or his hammer—straight into the disdainful Frost Giant's blue face.

_Know your place, Brother!_ The crown prince had snapped. He'd seen the moment of hurt on Loki's face, a fleeting break in the mask of courtly politeness and carefully-veiled urgency.

In the Gatehouse of the Bifröst, Thor remembered suddenly, Loki had yelled, _I never wanted the throne! I only wanted to be your equal!_

That was the thing about not only being brothers, but being as close as they had once been, Thor thought. After all, Frigga had revealed that Loki had come to Asgard as a newborn babe—barely a few hours old—the very night Thor had been born. The question of who was older had been a matter of perhaps an hour, if that, so Healing Mistress Eir had told the king and queen; Eir, the only person besides Odin and Frigga (and of course Heimdall) who'd always known Loki was not the son of Odin. Everyone else had thought Loki not only Thor's brother, but his twin—born on the same night in the hour after Thor, small and dark-haired against Thor's golden looks and blue eyes; the shadow to the golden prince.

He hadn't wanted to be Thor's shadow anymore. Because he'd tasted the power of kingship? Because he'd discovered he and Thor weren't two sides of a coin, two halves a whole? Or because of something else?

"Thor?" Sif ventured after he'd been silent for some time.

The crown prince shook the troubling thoughts away and focused on his friend and offered her a smile.

"I've always valued your friendship, Sif. It's good to know you're watching out for me," he said, because that was all he really _could_ say. He didn't know whether to deny her allegations or not. He simply didn't have enough information. Thor had learned, after everything that had followed his exile, never to make assumptions…especially where his little brother was concerned. "I must ready for dinner. I'll see you there."

"Of course," the shield-maiden replied hesitantly. "I will see you later, then."

Thor headed for his rooms, still keenly aware of the weight of Sif's gaze on his back. Just before he turned the corner, he decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, so he turned back.

"And Sif? Do not speak of this to anyone, please. That includes Loki."

She offered him a short bow; her silent way of communicating her displeasure, but also her promise to obey. "As you wish."

_No_, he thought as he strode away. _Not as I wish. If things were as I wished, my brother would not be in prison, half-mad with rage and grief, after murdering my friend, trying to kill me, launching an invasion on a realm I've sworn to protect, trying to decimate Jötunheim, and working behind my back to do…whatever he was trying to do_.

But Thor said none of this aloud.

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Lady Sif was not a sorceress by any means, but she had a little _seiðr_ of her own. Just enough to get her hands on something she—and Thor—desperately wanted. The only trick would be keeping Odin's foster son from discovering her presence.

Feet silent as the velvet paws of a cat, Sif crept down the dungeon corridor toward Loki's cell. Subterfuge was not her first choice when confronting an enemy; she preferred a face-to-face attack. In this instance, her fist in the traitor's pasty face. He deserved worse, the shield-maiden thought, for what Loki had done to his family. To the queen, especially, and to Thor. The crown prince had been devastated by Loki's loss, and then to find out he'd turned traitor and was planning on making war on Midgard…

Thor had been different upon his return from Midgard when he'd gone to retrieve the treacherous prince. Only later had the court learned that Prince Loki had murdered a friend of Prince Thor's in cold blood, stabbing him in the back like a coward when the mortal attempted to prevent Loki from killing _Thor_.

Sif didn't know why the idea of Loki attempting to kill his foster brother surprised everyone. He'd done it before, after all. Did no one remember Loki's treachery? Usurping the throne while Thor was banished? Yes, Frigga had made him king while Odin slept, but the slimy little rat had known she would. What about sending the Destroyer to butcher the golden-haired prince? Could no one else see Loki's jealousy, his hatred for Thor because Thor was crown prince and Loki was not?

But it seemed no one had until Loki's attempted coup…no one but Asgard's lone shield-maiden, friend to both princes, and one who was unquestioningly loyal to the heir to the throne.

Sif paused at the bend in the corridor just out of Loki's line of sight, and peered cautiously around the corner.

Loki was bent over the table in his cell, a charcoal stick clutched in one white-knuckled hand. The charcoal practically flew across the paper while Loki muttered under his breath, "No, no, no, _no_." He paused for a moment and stared intently at the paper on the table.

A shiver of unease whispered down Sif's back. Perhaps Loki _was_ mad after all. He certainly looked it. Dark brows knotted together above glassy, absinthe green eyes burning with some emotion Sif couldn't name. Chewing his lip viciously until a tiny trickle of red spilled down his chin, Loki practically panted for breath, eyes wide and nearly bulging in his skull.

"I cannot bear this," he rasped. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. "Thea, I cannot do this." He lowered his head so that strands of black fell around his face, obscuring his tormented expression. A long, agonized shudder ran through his entire body. The charcoal fell from his fingers to clatter against the tabletop. "I know I promised," Loki half-whispered, half-moaned. "I _know_, but I…Thea, I can't bear it. She was only a child. She was only a baby."

Suddenly he lunged to his feet, whipped around the chair, took four savage paces toward the wall, and rammed his fist into the merciless stone as hard as he could. There was a muffled _crunch_. Loki's entire body spasmed. Shoulders hunching, he dropped his forehead against the icy wall and cradled his hand to his chest. Blood dripped scarlet from his hand to pit-patter on the bare stone floor.

"Damn you," Loki hissed, thumping his forehead against the stone again—a little harder this time. "Damn you," another, harder head-thump, "damn you," and harder, "_damn_ you. Damn you, Thanos. Damn you, Thor. You stole them from me. It's your fault, it's all your fault. If not for you, they would still be with me. I'll see you pay for it, Brother. I'll see you twisting and writhing on the ground like a worm for every sin you've committed against…against…

"Oh, Thea." He drew a shaking breath. "I would have followed you. If they'd let me, I would have followed…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, _älskling_. I should have been there. I should have been _with_ you. Forgive me. Forgive me, I…"

Loki trailed off, muttering under his breath so softly that Sif couldn't hear what he said. He fell quiet, still shuddering. But then, with excruciating slowness, Loki straightened up, forcing his injured hand back to his side. His head remained bowed as he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. His shakes gradually subsided. Then he turned, to reveal a haggard face gone ghastly pale. Without another word to whatever entity he might've been speaking to in his madness, he went back to the table. Picking up the charcoal stick with his good hand, he set the point to the paper.

"I must do this. I must not forget this. I must never forget. I won't forget Sophie, Thea. I swear to you, I'll not forget her. Not one moment of…of her time with us, short though it was. And I'll not forget you, either, and our time together…I swear to you." Loki began to sketch again.

Sif waited, every nerve on the alert, as Loki sketched. When that drawing was finished, he set the paper aside and began another drawing, and then another when he'd finished the second. At some point during the third, Loki dropped the stick of charcoal. It hit the table and rolled until it dropped off the edge to clack onto the floor. Loki didn't seem to notice. He simply stared at the drawing for a long moment, throat working convulsively. Then he swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Opening them and wiping his blackened fingers on a piece of cloth, he stood and trudged toward the door in his prison that no doubt led to a privy—a private one, an accommodation most prisoners were not afforded. Sif suspected Odin had provided this and other unusual amenities for Loki in order to console the queen. Just the thought of what Loki had put Queen Frigga through sent a fresh wave of anger boiling through Sif.

The moment the door _clicked_ shut, Sif made her move. Twining _seiðr_ around her, she thrust out one hand. The strands of magic wove around her arm and out, down the corridor toward Loki's cell. She saw them as ribbons of iridescent light, but unless another magic-user was looking for magic being worked here, no one else would see. This was a simple enough spell, but difficult for someone to which _seiðr_ didn't come naturally.

When Sif felt the tendrils of magic slip under the door of Loki's prison—a prison designed to keep Loki's power _in_, not out, and porous enough for small magics to seep through—the shield-maiden grinned. Like a breath of wind, her magic swept the three drawings off the table and onto the floor. Another whisper of power whisked the sketches toward the door and under it before swishing them in a tiny whirlwind down the hall toward Sif. The guards glanced at her; she put a finger to her lips, and they nodded. They wouldn't tell the traitor she'd been there.

Quick as a snake, she grabbed the drawings. She knew Thor wanted to see them. Perhaps they would give some clue as to what Loki was planning.

Sif glanced at the first sketch and frowned. What was this? Why would Loki draw such a thing? She went on to the second drawing, then the third, frowning harder all the while. It made no sense. Why in the Nine Realms would the traitor be drawing—

_"Where are they?"_

The anguished demand jerked Sif from her reverie. Peeking back around the corner, she saw Loki braced against the table, panting like a dog again, eyes wild. He swept his hand across the tabletop, sending quills and sticks of charcoal skittering across the smooth surface and to the floor. Blank paper whooshed overhead before settling to the floor with faint fluttering sounds. Loki's eyes raked over the tabletop.

"Where are they?!" Loki cried, turning that half-mad gaze around the room, scanning for the missing drawings. His face had gone nearly gray. He shoved his fingers through his hair before clutching cruelly at the ebony strands. Sif frowned. What was wrong with him? "No. No! _Where are they?!_" He roared the question, bellowing it like a wounded beast at the impassive and unresponsive guards. They didn't even so much as glance in Sif's direction.

Suddenly Loki hurled himself at the glass window. His body collided with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but he didn't stop to catch his breath. Instead he hammered at the ensorcelled window, hard enough that Sif's hands ached in sympathy. Humming power filled the air. A dull ache throbbed through Sif's teeth as Loki gathered _seiðr_ to him, straining against the bonds of his prison, and hurled his power at the ensorcelled glass.

"Tell me where they are! _Tell me!_" Another weak ball of power hurtled toward the window.

The guards reacted to _this_. One leveled his bladed staff at the window, barking at the prince to cease his attack, while the other shot a glance at Sif, who knew exactly what the Asgardian was trying to communicate.

_Fetch the king and the crown prince._

Hugging the mystifying drawings to her chest, the shield-maiden turned on her heel and raced silently away, leaving Loki raging nearly incoherently at the guards far behind.

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Anxiety was a living, breathing shadow in Thor's belly as he and his father strode through the dungeon corridors side by side, Odin's heavy tread echoing off the walls in counterpoint to Thor's own. Frantic thoughts raced through Thor's mind with every step. What was Loki doing? Why would he try to escape after accepting Odin's bargain? There was only one possibility that made total sense to Thor, but he didn't want to consider it…yet.

If Loki had been lying all this time, if his desire to avenge Thea and Sophie was all an act, he would have no reason to fear Odin rescinding the bargain to aid Loki in seeking his revenge. He could simply lull them all into a false sense of security, then escape.

Yet mad as Loki was, he was still cunning enough and clever enough to know things weren't there yet. None of the Asgardian royal family trusted him enough to make this prison-break make any sense.

Thor thought of Sif racing into the informal sitting room where Thor and his parents had been discussing Loki, discussing whether he would or would not accept Odin's bargain—and whether Odin would or would not accept Loki's story—when the shield-maiden had rushed in, crying that the prison guards needed both king and prince, that Loki seemed to be trying to escape.

Now the king and crown prince found the other prince on his knees in his cell, forehead and palms pressed to the window, fingers curled into claws against the glass. Thin smears of crimson marred the otherwise pristine window. Thor saw Loki's fingernails had splintered and cracked, and blood seeped from beneath the nail-beds. His fingertips had been scraped raw as well. He shook as if with a palsy, and his labored breathing echoed in the dungeon. Even as Thor and Odin approached, Loki thunked his head against the glass.

"Where are they?" Loki snarled without lifting his head. "Who stole them? Who _stole_ them? Tell me, curse you! Tell me what you did with them!" Those clawed fingers skidded down the glass with an eerie _skreee_ sound, leaving translucent trails of blood behind. "I'll kill you if you do not tell me _now!_"

Odin opened his mouth, but Thor laid a restraining hand on his father's arm, gesturing him back where Loki couldn't see him. Odin glanced at his heir, but Thor's gaze was elsewhere. Keen warrior eyes took in the prison cell at a glance: the scattered paper, the quills and charcoal pencils everywhere, the blood smeared on the glass and on one wall, and—most telling of all—the lack of charred pages in the fireplace.

"Loki?" Thor stepped into the light and spoke gently to his brother. Slowly, as if his head were an almost-impossible weight upon his shoulders, Loki looked up at his foster brother with a face eerily blank. "What's the matter?"

Something flickered in the depths of that emerald gaze—a flash of electric blue, there and gone—before the other prince closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass again. "Where are they?"

"Where are what, Loki?"

Wearily, the prince replied, "You know what." An even wearier shake of the head. "Why, Thor? Why did you take them?"

"I took nothing, Brother, I swear to you," Thor said. "What have you lost?"

Why was it so hard to breathe? Something about the sight of his little brother looking so despondent, and the words they both spoke, struck a chord in Thor. There was something about this...

The storybook; Thor remembered now. They had had a similar conversation that long ago day when Tyr had stolen Loki's favorite storybook, utterly destroying it to get Loki back for some petty, inconsequential thing. At the time, Loki hadn't known who'd done it. He'd come into his bedroom to find the ripped-out pages scattered across the chamber floor, done a frantic search for the elaborately-tooled leather binding, and found it in the midden pile. That was one reason Loki had refused to speak to anyone about the event; at the time, he hadn't known the identity of the culprit. Just like now…and perhaps, just like that day, Thor would be the one to help.

"Brother, I would never deliberately steal something from you," Thor murmured, using that memory as a weapon to cut down the walls of ice around his little brother. "What have you lost? Perhaps I can help you find it."

Silence stretched out between them, strained with the weight of centuries and the betrayals Loki still hadn't explained, but at last the green-eyed prince raised his head again and whispered in a voice heavy with bitter defeat, "Someone stole my drawings. I need them back. I promised…I need them back. They are part of my penance. I have to get them back."

Someone had stolen Loki's drawings? No charred paper in the fireplace, Thor reminded himself. But how had anyone gotten into the enchanted prison without the guards seeing the intruder? Unless…

A sliver of memory pierced Thor's brain. When Sif had come in to pass on the guards' message, she'd been holding papers in one hand. Thor had glimpsed elegant lines and shading, but he'd been distracted at the time. His only thought had been that he hadn't known Sif could draw. Now the thought nagged at him. Sif _couldn't_ draw. He would've known; they'd been friends long enough. Where had she gotten those pictures?

But she'd promised not to speak to Loki…

Loki didn't know who'd stolen his drawings…if they _had_ been stolen, and he wasn't slipping further into madness. If Sif had come to speak to him, he would have suspected her right from the beginning. The trust, friendship, and affection that had existed between Loki, Sif, and the Three had been irreparably shattered, and Loki knew it. He would've suspected her if she'd come to see him.

Unless she _hadn't_ spoken to him, thus keeping her word to Thor, but had somehow gotten her hands on the drawings anyway…she would have seen nothing wrong with taking them, to use them as a tool to get more information about Loki—whom she considered a threat to her prince.

"I will see if I can find them," Thor assured his brother. This wasn't the Loki he'd spoken to earlier that day, nor was this the one he'd battled on Midgard. This was…he didn't know this Loki, broken by madness and guilt and rage. Loki's face had been emptied of any emotion by his exhaustion. Didn't he feel his injuries? His hands were shadowed violet and blue, bruised raw in places, smeared with blood. He didn't seem to notice at all. "Or," Thor added, "I'll find whoever might have taken them. In the meantime, you need a healer."

"No," Loki hissed. Sapphire sparked in his eyes before being swallowed by jade once more. "No healers. I want my drawings back, Thor."

"Loki, your hands—"

"It's nothing," he snapped, looking away. One damaged appendage came up to tangle in a thin chain around the pale throat, to clutch at the gold and emerald ring hanging from the thick chain. Thor had never seen that ring before. Loki must have been wearing it beneath his shirt all this time. "Forget it. Someone stole from me. They have to pay."

Thinking of Sif, Thor made no promise to that effect. He merely said, "I will do what I can, Brother. In exchange, I want more of your story when I return."

Emerald eyes snapped to Thor's face. "Find what was stolen and I will give you what you want."

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Thor stood outside Sif's door, swallowing back the anger surging up in him like the tide. Her door was open, and she sat in a chair, staring at a piece of paper in her lap. Two others rested near at hand. Instinct told the crown prince that it was exactly what he was looking for.

"Sif," Thor said softly. Her head snapped up, the firelight sheening the spill of her long, dark hair. The moment she saw Thor, a tinge of unease colored her features. "Where did you get those?"

After a moment, she sighed. "You said once that you wished to know what he was drawing all the time, so I endeavored to find out."

"You shouldn't have taken those," he growled, striding into her sitting room and kicking the door shut behind her. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Loki? My brother is frantic—"

"He's not your brother, Thor!" Sif cried, bringing him up short. "Why do you care what happens to him? He betrayed you. He tried to kill you more than once! He's dangerous, he's evil, and he's attempting to manipulate you. Loki cannot be trusted! Forget about him!"

A thousand thoughts and emotions clamored inside the Asgardian warrior, each one raging to be heard and acknowledged. None would help him now, so he attempted to let them go, and held out his hand. "Give me the drawings, Sif."

Hesitating only a moment, she handed him the three sketches. "I can make neither heads nor tails of them," she said softly, without looking at him. Thor gazed down at the topmost drawing and frowned.

It was an angled drawing of Loki…and a woman.

Sketch-Loki settled into the comfortable cushions of a plush Midgardian couch, legs stretched out before him. He wore Midgardian garb, as well—the heavy, durable blue trousers known as jeans, a sleeveless shirt, and a plaid overshirt. Thor remembered Jane had said they were called "lumberjack shirts." The woman lay draped across the cushions, her head pillowed on her arms on the arm of the couch opposite Loki, her hair tumbling over the couch-arm to touch the floor. Unfortunately, the angle obscured her face. Her feet were in Loki's lap; Loki seemed to be in the middle of rubbing them.

The drawing was composed so that the emphasis was on the woman. The prince was in the background, more an implied shadow than anything else, but Thor recognized him nonetheless. The focal point of the piece seemed to be the jeweled ring on the girl's finger, one Thor thought he vaguely recognized. In front of the pair was something Thor was surprised Loki knew about—a Midgardian device known as a television. The sketch was angled so that the viewer could just see the television screen. To the crown prince's surprise, he realized the image on the screen was of a man dueling with a horse, the horse armed with a sword in its teeth and the man armed with a skillet.

Loki smiled in the drawing, but it took a moment for Thor to realize that the smile was gentle, joyous, not cruel or malicious, and that he wasn't looking at the screen of the television. He was looking at the girl. Was this Thea? What was this drawing of? A futile wish for the future…or a memory?

Thor skipped to the next drawing, of the same girl splashing in the rolling ocean surf in a knee-length dress. It was almost as if Loki had caught her in the act of twirling in a circle amidst the sea spray, frozen in time. Her hair fanned out around her, obscuring Thor's view of her face, but joy radiated from every line of her body. Her arms were flung out on either side of her as the waves crashed over her feet. There was no one else in this picture.

When he reached the final drawing, Thor sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Loki stood beside a window. The curtains were filmy with the moonlight pouring in through the glass, gilding the dark hair and sharp cheekbones. Curled up in the window-seat with her back to Loki's chest, feet pressed against the side of the casement opposite herself and Loki, sat a woman with the her face turned away from the viewer. She wore a night-robe, but that didn't hide the gently swelling curve of her belly where her hands rested…over Loki's. Thor's brother wasn't smiling in this picture; his face was shadowed by anguish and dread.

Something clicked into place. Thor was fairly sure of something about Thea—she'd been married, probably. Had a husband, been with child when she was captured by the Chitauri. Poor girl. Had that been part of why Loki had fallen for her? Her obvious distress, her need for an ally and a friend under such circumstances? Or had it been something else?

Or could it be that this was _not_ a memory, but another futile wish of Loki's? Loki, wishing for a child with a Midgardian? It didn't make sense.

Whatever these drawings meant, Thor would have to ask his brother…but since he'd managed to retrieve them, Loki would have to answer his question. He would have to explain to the crown prince the exact meaning of these sketches, especially the third.

And then Thor would find out just what had happened to his little brother while imprisoned by the Chitauri.

_TBC_

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_**Author's Note**__: gasp! The pictures! At last we get to see some of Loki's drawings. Were they what you expected? Or not? What do you think they mean?_

_Also, guess what? We are celebrating! What are we celebrating? My beta, who in her words "despises Loki" and "loathes" him, has informed me that I've turned her into a Loki fangirl. Now that doesn't mean she'll be going around reading other people's fanfics, but it does mean she doesn't despise him. This is the second time I've managed to do this to a movie villain for her. Muahahahaha. Go me!_

_Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and remember, reviews are love!_


	9. When All Other Lights Go Out

_**Author's Note**__: so here's the next chapter. Is everyone excited? I hope you're excited! I hope you all love this chapter. And for all of you guys who think you know what's going on…haha. You have no idea. Once you read chapter 9 (next chap after this) your minds will be all OVER the place! Muahahahaha. Love you all, hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!_

_- LA_

_PS – about Sif. I very much believe Sif is in love with Thor. Because of that, she has a BIG issue with what went down between him and Loki, and she's less likely to forgive and forget than the others. Was she being intentionally cruel? No, and we'll explore that as we go on. I love Sif a lot, so don't think I'm hating or anything, okay? Huggles!_

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**Chapter Eight  
When All Other Lights Go Out**

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When Thor returned to the dungeons, he found Loki pacing furiously back and forth across the length of his cell. One arm was tucked behind his back, pressed tight against his body, hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist that only emphasized the raw scrapes and bloodstains marring the pale skin. Loki's other hand was raised to his mouth. Tiny rivulets of crimson trickled over his fingers to soak into the hem of his dusty-green sleeve. It took Thor a moment to realize his little brother was biting down on the middle knuckle of his index finger hard enough to draw blood. Loki's head was bent, eyes squeezed shut. Thor paused several paces from the glass when he heard Loki muttering to himself.

"Who was it? I don't know, _älskling_, I don't know, but I'll find out. I won't let them do this to you. It's all right. It's all right. There's still time. I promise you that I'll make them pay for what they did to you. I'll make them pay, Thea. For you…for Sophie." Loki made it to the far side of the cell, whirled around, and started across the room again. "I had no choice," the prince added. "Forgive me, I had no choice. I…I…" Loki suddenly jerked to a halt, bringing both hands up to clutch at his temples. Eyes snapping open in a blaze of cerulean, he snarled, "What is that hideous sound? What _is_ it? Where is it coming from? It can't be…can't…_no!_"

Those half-glazed eyes spotted Thor. The knotted brows slowly relaxed. The snarl faded from Loki's face as the strangely mazarine gaze fixated on the three pieces of paper in the crown prince's hand. In three swift strides, Loki was pressing himself against the glass, uncaring of the fresh blood left by his hands.

"You found them!" Loki rasped. He sucked in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth, his entire body seeming to yearn toward the drawings. "Give them to me, Thor!" When the older prince didn't move, Loki yelled, "_Give them to me!_"

"First you must answer my questions," Thor said softly. He motioned to the guard for his customary chair. It was brought and Thor took his seat, glancing between the topmost sketch—the one of Loki and the girl watching television on the couch—and his little brother, pressed hard against the enchanted window. "Who is the woman in these drawings?"

Loki jerked back as if Thor had bared a serpent's fangs at him. "You _looked_ at them?"

He sighed, exasperated. "Rather difficult not to, don't you think, Brother?" Holding up the topmost drawing so Loki could see it, the crown prince reiterated, "Who is this woman?"

Green eyes lanced with that bizarre electric blue flicked to the drawing, and a look of such intense longing twisted the pale features that unease churned in Thor's belly. Loki's eyes traced the delicate lines of the sketch like a loving caress. The thin black brows rose and the pale lips parted, turning the foster prince's expression into one of abject pleading…yet Thor was certain his brother wasn't directing that gaze at him, but at the girl in the picture. Loki's slender shoulders rose and fell sharply as he took a quick breath, then let it out. He closed his eyes and let his forehead thump gently against the glass.

"This is Thea, isn't it?" A shudder rippled through Loki at the sound of his brother saying the name. Thor leaned back in his chair and asked, careful to keep his voice gentle, "What is this drawing of, Brother?"

Another shudder shook Loki's frame. "A Midgardian entertainment called a movie," he replied, voice bitter with defeat. "_Tangled_, it is called…about a girl imprisoned in a tower who finds her freedom. Give it back to me."

"How do you know of this…movie?" Thor needed to know. He sincerely doubted the Chitauri were in the habit of offering their prisoners entertainment of any kind, and Loki didn't seem the type to fritter away his time watching foolish Midgardian entertainment when he had an invasion to plan. Another chink in the story, the prince thought, along with Coulson's murder, Thea's bags, and Sophie's identity.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Loki replied in a whisper.

"Try me," Thor commanded, voice sharper than he'd intended.

Loki's eyes suddenly chilled, frosting over with the same cold hatred Thor had seen so many times before. The crown prince didn't look away from his foster brother's gaze, but held it until a smirk curved Loki's thin lips. Then the infuriating brat slowly shook his head.

"_Loki_—"

Thor cut himself off. Clearly his brother was attempting to bait him…but why? So he would destroy the precious drawings? That _was_ what the disguised Frost Giant did with them himself, after all. The Asgardian wouldn't fall for that little ploy. Instead, he went to the second drawing, of Thea spinning amidst the crashing ocean waves. He held it up so his brother could see it plainly.

"And this?" Thor demanded. Loki said nothing, though a shadow passed over his face. "What is this? A memory? When did you and Thea go to the sea, Brother?"

Still Loki didn't speak. He merely sneered at Thor. That sneer stayed fixed in place until Thor lifted the third sketch—an anguished Loki holding an obviously-pregnant Thea before the moonlit window—and raised one eyebrow in silent inquiry.

The change that overtook the green-eyed prince was almost instantaneous. Wide-eyed, he recoiled from the drawing, stepping back from the ensorcelled window with his hands up as if to ward off the image. His throat worked convulsively and what little blood remained in his face drained away. He retreated until his back smacked against the far wall. Then his long legs buckled, sending him sliding to the floor.

"How dare you?" Loki whispered in a voice that shook. "How dare you use my penance as a weapon against me, Odinson?"

Puzzled, swallowing back the first sting of guilt—he hadn't realized Loki would react like this—Thor stood and laid the stack of drawings on the seat of his chair. He approached the cell window cautiously. His little brother trembled on the floor, face haggard with grief. Before Thor could speak, Loki shoved his scraped, bruised, bloodied fingers into his hair and tilted his head back. His lashes made dark crescents against his death-pale cheeks as he drew in a deep breath and let it out. Took another breath, held it, let it out. He didn't open his eyes for several minutes. When he did, the blue tinge to his gaze had disappeared, and he looked a little more like himself again.

"I'd like those back now," Loki said in a soft, even tone that made the hair on Thor's arms prickle. "I need them back, Thor. They need to be burned."

"Why do you always burn them?" He'd asked that question once before, and Loki had rebuffed him with a sarcastic response, but the crown prince didn't think his brother would do so this time. "You mentioned penance. What penance?"

Loki was silent for a time, then he looked away, murmuring, "I promised her I would remember."

"Remember what?" Thor asked gently.

A weak chuckle echoed in the prison cell. "'_Weep not for roads untraveled_,' she used to tell me. That is a Midgardian song that she liked. She told me to remember the beauty and forget the ugliness. Remember peace and forget pain." Glacial emerald eyes flicked to Thor and Loki's expression turned murderous. "That is the woman you killed, Brother." Closing his eyes once more, Loki sighed and slumped against the wall. "And I am such a weak-willed cretin, I cannot even keep my last vow to her."

Still confused, Thor asked, "But…but what was your vow?"

"To remember her," Loki whispered at last. "To remember her and Sophie, to immortalize them in my memory. To retrace the threads of their lives as they intertwined with mine until they were imprinted within me for eternity. To refuse to forget them as they were."

And Thor remembered his brother earlier that morning, working his illusion. _I'm sorry, Thea_, Loki had murmured, staring up at the ceiling after struggling to make the illusion of Sophie younger and younger. _I couldn't do it. I cannot look at her as…as she…I cannot do it. Forgive me._

As they were…

On sudden impulse, Thor asked, "Loki…when was Sophie born? Do you know?"

A tense, feral stillness gripped the other prince. In a voice carefully devoid of any and all emotion, he replied, "Yes."

"When was she born?" He waited, but Loki said nothing. After a few minutes of taut silence, Thor tried to cajole, "Will you not tell me?"

"No."

A beat of silence. "Why not?"

Loki's nostrils flared and wrinkles snarled between his brows. The ice melted from his gaze as he looked at his brother. "It is too soon to tell you. You wouldn't believe me…and if you did, it would hurt you to know."

Thor frowned. "Hurt me? How?" No answer. "Will you not tell me, Brother?" Loki shook his head. "Why not? Isn't that what you want—to hurt me, to make me pay for my sins against Thea and Sophie—"

"Don't say their names as if they are nothing," Loki snapped. "They're _not_ nothing! If you knew who they were, you would…" He trailed off, swallowing back whatever he'd intended to say. He shook his head. "You have no idea how to say her name. Their names. You have no idea how to speak of them."

Baffled, the crown prince replied, "I don't understand."

"You say her name as if it is nothing, as if it doesn't sit on the tongue like…" Loki trailed off again, eyes suddenly darting frantically around the room as if searching for something. He straightened slightly. "What is that? What is that sound? It shouldn't _be_ here, where is it coming from?"

This was the third time today, Thor thought, that Loki had claimed to hear something when no audible noise came to his elder brother's ears. Still the prince strained to make out whatever sound his brother might be hearing. There was nothing. "What sound, Loki?"

"That sound! That hideous, wretched sound!" One slender hand came up to press against the pale temple glistening with a sudden sheen of sweat. "Don't you hear it, Thor? Don't you hear it? That _sound_…I can scarcely bear it. _Hnn_…" Loki pressed the heels of his palms against his temples and hunched his shoulders. Tension quivered through his entire body. His voice rose in pitch as he curled himself into a sort of ball. "It never stops for long. Why does it haunt me? Why _that_ sound?"

"Loki, what sound?" Thor demanded. Loki's teeth had sunk into his lip hard enough to reopen the wound he'd chewed there earlier. A thin trickle of crimson spilled down his chin to stain his tunic. "What sound, Brother?"

Loki shook his head as if to shake the sound away. "The crying," he breathed with soft horror. "The crying…the baby crying."

Thor frowned. "What?"

But there was no answer. After several tense minutes of silence while Loki panted for breath and shivered as if in the throes of agony, the tension suddenly faded from the prince's body and he sagged against the wall, hanging his head in obvious exhaustion. When his breathing evened out, he said softly, almost as if to himself, "There is always a baby crying, even where no babe should be. In waking. In sleep. I can hear her wails in my dreams. My nightmares…haunted by the desperate cries of a child in pain. Such cruel suffering…I didn't want…I never meant…why does she haunt me?"

He dropped his head into his hands and simply sat there, shuddering for a time. At last he raised his head and whispered in a voice suffused with pain, "She's dead, Thor. Sophie. My little Sophie…yet she haunts me still. And Thea…I hear her screaming in my dreams. What the Chitauri did to her…to Thea…"

Surtur's blade, Thor thought as horror twisted and coiled in his belly like a serpent. Was that why Loki always looked as if he hadn't slept? Because he heard the woman he loved and the child that Thor was almost certain was hers being tortured and murdered by the Chitauri? Surely Odin could do something for Loki's nightmares…surely…

But the way Loki said the two names told Thor what he'd meant earlier. When Loki said, "Thea," there was such an odd note there. He said her name as if it were the words to a song, a plea to the Creator for strength as well as a prayer of gratitude…a cry of joy and a lamentation. The same with Sophie's name, but there was an undercurrent there too, of pride, of pain, of protectiveness. As if Sophie were a rare and precious treasure that belonged to Loki alone.

"Here, Brother." Letting instinct guide him, Thor moved to the door and slid the drawings beneath it. The _seiðr_ allowed the pages through, as they possessed no magic and could not be used as weapons or as a means of escape.

Loki scrambled for the sketches, snatching them up to press to his chest. Before Thor could say anything, Loki stalked to the fire and cast the first two drawings into the flames. He paused only for the third. Trembling fingertips lightly traced over the woman in the window, followed by Loki's shadowed jade eyes, before the prince cast that drawing into the fire as well. The paper browned and curled, charring around the edges. Blackness spread across the pages as they crinkled and burned. The scent of smoke and burning paper filled the air. Loki never took his eyes off the sketches until they were nothing but char and ash.

"Why do you burn them?" Thor asked again, because there was something more than this "penance" Loki spoke of. The penance was why he drew them in the first place, but why burn them? Unless they were his offering to Thea's ghost, like the letters his foster brother often wrote. "Tell me."

"I despise them," was the astonishing reply. "I cannot bear them to be in the world…when Thea and Sophie are not." Loki sighed. "Will you not leave me in peace, Thor?"

"I brought your drawings back," the prince reminded his little brother. "You promised me more of your story. I cannot help you convince Odin if you do not tell me the entirety of it, and if we cannot convince him, your vengeance will slip through your fingers."

Loki said nothing, merely watched the flames. Then he turned and strode to the wall, where he sank down and sat tailor-fashion upon the floor, resting his back against the cold, pale stones. Another sigh escaped him as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. If not for the raw knuckles, bloodied fingers, chewed lip, and the dark circles beneath Loki's eyes—so stark against his sickly pallor—Thor might have thought Loki was merely resting his eyes or something, instead of readying himself for some fierce battle with the past, as Thor knew him to be doing.

When his brother spoke again, it was not what Thor expected. It had nothing to do with Thea, Sophie, or the Chitauri, though it did concern the past—a distant past, just before Loki had first betrayed them all.

"Do you remember when Víðarr came home from his coming-of-age quest with a bride?"

Golden brows rose nearly to Thor's hairline. "I…do. Yes. Why?"

"Tell me about it," Loki requested softly without opening his eyes. "What do you remember?"

"Surely _you_ remember it better than I," Thor protested. After all, Víðarr had come home just after the beginning of Thor's exile, before things had gone truly mad.

His little brother shook his head. "Please, Brother—tell me of our sister-in-law."

Utterly confused, Thor settled himself back in his chair. Crossing his legs at the ankle, he folded his arms across his broad chest and tried to remember as much as he could. "Víðarr went to retrieve a lost relic, stolen by Surtur himself, from Muspelheim. On his way, he had to stop in Vanaheim. There he met Bellalyse, one of the common-born Vanir—though rather an uncommonly beautiful one—and they fell in love. They stole away from Vanaheim in secret because her father wanted her to marry the blacksmith or some such, who was a brute and a scoundrel. Sometime between when they left and when Víðarr returned home with her, he gave her one of the Golden Apples of Iðunn and they were wed."

Which would have been a bit trickier politically, Thor thought to himself, if Bellalyse had been a nobleman's daughter instead of the daughter of a herdsman. But once a non-Æsir was given one of _Iðunn_'s Golden Apples—the source of the _Æsir_'s strength, longevity, and power—they were bound to the giver as a spouse. That was all it took to wed an Asgardian, really—simply one bite, offered by someone of the opposite gender who was not already wed, and so long as the eater was not already wed, and so long as they both possessed the knowledge that a bite from the Apple would bind the eater to the _Æsir_ as a spouse.

There was more to the wedding ceremony if both partners were Asgardian, but the _seiðr_ involved meant that no witnesses were needed (convenient for young lovers with disapproving parents), though it was considered customary to invite both families if possible. Bellalyse had known all of this when she'd accompanied the fourth prince of the House of Odin on his quest, and yet gone with Víðarr gladly, knowing her family would not be pleased.

"I've always been fond of Bellalyse," Loki murmured. Thor dragged himself out of his reverie to focus once more on his little brother, who still sat with his eyes closed, smiling faintly now, though there was such weariness to the expression that it made Thor tired just to look at it. "She was always so very kind to me during your exile. Never acted as if I might turn her wine into a goblet of snakes, for instance."

"You can hardly blame that servant for being afraid of you doing such after you _did_ it to him, Loki," Thor reminded him, shaking his head in exasperation. "That was a waste of good wine, as well."

Loki chuckled and shook his head. "A little mischief never hurt anyone. A good trick now and then is good for the blood."

"I've told you the story," Thor replied, refusing to be drawn into a debate about mischief; Loki had long since moved _past_ mischief when he sent the Destroyer to Midgard; the crown prince still couldn't be sure if he believed his brother's supposed reasoning for why he'd done so. Instead, he said, "Now you owe me the tale you promised me."

Several moments passed in silence broken only by the snap and crackle of torches and the fire in his brother's hearth. Finally Loki nodded. Ebony strands of hair fell across his brow and eyes, masking the emotion in his gaze. Did Loki dread telling more, Thor wondered?

"Very well," the adopted prince said softly. "Where did we leave off?"

Though Thor suspected Loki knew very well where they'd left off in his story, Thor replied, "Thea had widened the crack in the wall so you could see her face, and she could see you."

"Ah," Loki murmured. "Yes. My first glimpse of a friendly face in many moons…"

.

_"Hi, there," Thea said brightly._

_A shadow swept across her cheek and temple, and Loki realized she was brushing the hair back from her grimy face. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled almost obscenely with her triumph in widening out the crack so they could glimpse each other. Loki wondered how she'd even known the crack was there in the first place. Had she dug her fingers into mortar and stone in vain attempt to draw closer to the voice on the other side of the wall?_

_Thea peered at him, angling her face as if she were trying to see something difficult to make out. She shifted again, pressing her eye socket to the crack—more like a small hole, now—in order to see better. But this cut off the light from her little torch, plunging Loki once more into darkness. A low sound of protest strangled in his throat as the dark pressed in against him, bearing down like a hellhound intent on the kill._

_"Hang on a second," Thea muttered, pulling back, and the blessed light came back, though it was muted as she angled the glow away from the hole. What was she doing? When would the light return fully? There was that rustling sound, the_ zzzzz _Loki had heard earlier, and the clatter of hard objects jouncing against each other. "I will find it…now. Or not. How about now? No. Okay, I just had them, where did they go? Seriously. You cannot hide from me, flashlights, I know where you live. Where are you? Wait a minute…" There was a sharp sound of exultation, followed by the full return of the light. "Here, take this," Thea said, thrusting something through the hole._

_It slid with a harsh grating sound and fell onto Loki's leg. His hand closed around it convulsively. It was smooth and hard, but didn't quite feel like metal. Perhaps two inches long, it seemed to have a slim circular handle that took up the majority of its length. A wider circular piece at the end had a flat, glass-like piece about the size of a small coin in the center, though Loki couldn't make out the details of the contraption. When he ran his fingertip along the side of the wider part, something slid beneath his touch with a soft clicking sound. When he pushed at it again, a vivid beam of nearly-blinding light erupted from the wide end and shot up toward the ceiling._

_He shut his eyes hastily, waiting for the same ache that had lanced his eyes before when Thea had flashed her own small light to dissipate. When it finally faded, he opened one eye cautiously, then the second. Blinking hard to clear the spots from his vision, he let his eyes adjust._

_Among other things, the luminous beam illuminated most of Loki's body. He grimaced. He'd known instinctively what he looked like, but to see it…he'd fallen far from the elegant battle-armor he'd worn when he'd made the greatest mistake of his life and let himself fall from the Bifröst. His armor was gone, leaving him in only ripped trousers of soft black leather and a tattered green tunic spattered with old bloodstains and grime. The flesh that showed through the torn fabric, crusted blood, and filth was pale as a corpse. No sun for six months would do that to a man, he supposed._

_Swinging the beam around his cell allowed him to fully appreciate its squalor for the first time. No cot or pallet, only hard stone floor and walls; no lights at all, as he'd already determined by feel six months previous; a hole in the floor to serve as a privy—with a lid, thank heavens, to keep in the stench—in the far corner; a spigot sticking out of the wall where water would trickle sometimes when he was at his most desperate; a very small vent near the ceiling to circulate air so he didn't stifle to death; the metal door that opened at random to let in his torturers so they could beat him with merciless fists before dragging him out into the corridor by his limp arms and his hair; the one-way swinging slot in the bottom of the door where the Chitauri shoved in plates of prison slop, but that he couldn't push out to get even a breath of fresher air or dimmest light; and nothing else. No windows, no hinges on the inside of the door, no blanket or pillow, no amenities or anything._

_"Oh, bleh," Thea mumbled from her side of the wall. Loki immediately zeroed in on her voice again; she sounded distracted. He peered through the hole in the wall and saw the vague shadow of her against the far wall of her own cell as she swung her own beam of light around the small room. Strange—her cell appeared to be a little bigger than his own. Or perhaps it was simply that she was smaller. Was she smaller? "This place is a box. I'm starting to miss my old dorm at school."_

_"Dorm?" Loki asked._

_Her head whipped toward him; he could see the ripple of her hair, a moving shadow that suddenly brought to mind something he'd thought of many times since his imprisonment—women. He hadn't seen a woman, or had one, in six months. Hadn't had one gentle word, one sweet touch. Hadn't felt the caress of a woman's fingertips against his brow, or tasted petal-soft lips, or touched the silk of her hair. Loki suddenly wondered what color Thea's hair was._

_"Yeah," the girl said. He could see her crawling back to the wall they shared. The beam of light danced crazily around the room as she moved toward him. "When I was younger—up until I graduated college—I went to a boarding school. We slept in dorms. It always bugged me because I had to share a room with three other girls, and we all had our problems, you know? Hard to sleep when your roommate's throwing things around the room in her sleep with her mind, or screaming from a nightmare and shattering the windows. Though to be honest, I probably wasn't the easiest roommate to be around, either. Until I got a handle on my powers, things were a bit…tense." She settled with a sigh back into place against the wall. "Say, you don't have a problem with me being a mutant, do you?"_

_"What is a…mutant?" He imagined a pair of eyes in the back of the girl's head, or horns under her hair, or perhaps extra fingers, or tentacles on her belly. He'd seen such things in other realms._

_"It means I have special powers," Thea replied cautiously. "How do you not know that? Mutants are like, the big controversy right now. Whether we have the right to go to school and hold jobs and stuff. Apparently my friend Kitty—one of my old roommates—is one of our spokespeople now because some big-shot senator mentioned how she could walk through walls in a Congress meeting and everybody flipped out. It made the news about eight months ago."_

_"I am not from Midgard."_

_There was a pause, as if she were mulling something over, then the girl said, "Wait…are you an alien?"_

_"That is the Midgardian word for it, I believe." He didn't tell her he was a god. She wouldn't believe him, and he certainly didn't feel very godly right now. Besides, though humans had worshipped Asgardians as gods at one point, it had never been the aim of the Æsir to be treated so—merely a consequence of their power being witnessed by the simple Midgardians who'd lacked any other explanation for such might._

_Thea gasped. "You're kidding. Oh, my gosh, my mom will freak when I get home. I can tell her I met an alien, too. And that he was nice. My mom has this phobia about aliens 'cause she saw this movie. Anyway, I'm babbling because I'm freaking out because I've been kidnapped—again! Only by evil aliens this time, apparently."_

_He didn't have the heart to tell her that she would never get home, never see her mother or tell her that the girl had met a "nice alien." Nice. She thought he was nice? She didn't know him. Didn't know what he was capable of. No one in Asgard would consider him "nice." This girl was almost sweet in her naïveté._

_Then something she said struck him anew. "You have been held captive before?"_

_She made an aggravated sort of growling sound. "Yeah, when I was a senior in high school. My school was attacked by these guys, I don't know what they wanted other than to kidnap us. Most of us got out, but this freshman kid I'd been mentoring, helping him with his powers, I had to go find him and we ended up getting caught. One of our teachers saved him, but I ended up getting rounded up with everyone else who got captured. Our teachers came and got us, though."_

_"Why did they want the children at your school?" Not that it mattered to him, really, but he wanted to hear her explanation. She had a unique way of speaking. Clearly Midgardian, but there was a lightness to it that seemed to push back the darkness almost as well as the tiny Midgardian torch she'd given him._

_"Probably," Thea replied sourly, "for the exact same reason these Chitauri want us—for our powers. You_ do _have powers, right? Because if you don't then I'm wondering why they kidnapped you."_

_Oh, he had powers. Seiðr was his life's blood, it seemed, but he couldn't use it in the shape he was in. Not enough to do anything important, at any rate. He was too malnourished, too dehydrated, too badly hurt, too weak. "I do," Loki mumbled. "But I cannot use them."_

_"Yeah," she sighed. "Me, either. The jerks. When Phil finds me, he is going to rip these guys to pieces. Him and his boss. His boss is kinda scary, but you know what? I'm banking on scary being a good thing right now. My mom's probably frantic," Thea added softly, a slight waver in her voice. "Jeez. And my brothers are probably going crazy."_

_The words pricked at his interest while raking across his heart. Brothers. Suddenly Loki thought of Thor: built like a grizzly bear, affable as an old dog, with his leonine looks and good humor, with his loyalty. Víðarr, still so besotted with his beautiful bride, Bellalyse that he hadn't been concerned at all about Thor, the coming war, Odin's prolonged sleep. Hermod and Balder, still not of age, both princes idolizing their older brothers. Tyr, with his temper and dark looks so like Loki's. Loki had idolized_ him _as a child._

_"You have brothers?" Loki asked, swallowing back salt and grief. He'd been such a fool. Even if Odin had rejected him, had never truly loved him as a father, he'd still had Thor, Víðarr, Balder, and Hermod. Even Tyr, though Tyr had always been cold toward his brothers since being passed over for the throne. He'd had Frigga. Why had he let go of his father's staff?_

_"Yeah, five brothers and two sisters," she replied. "Two younger sisters, one older brother, three younger brothers, and my twin, Theodore, who's an hour older than me, but we still like to argue about who's older just to be ridiculous sometimes. Everyone calls him Theo, though, because everyone calls me Thea."_

_"Is that a nickname?"_

_"Short for Althea, but that's my so-called real mom's name, so I shortened it to Thea when I was kid because I'd always thought it was prettier than Althea."_

_Why had his heart suddenly sped up? "Your…real mother?" She hesitated, as if unsure she wanted to answer his question, so Loki added, "I mean no disrespect, but I would like to understand you better." Anything, so long as she kept talking._

_"My dad—my biological dad—left my mom when she got pregnant with me. That's when he told her that he was a mutant, so Theo and I would probably be mutants, too, and he didn't want to bring anymore mutants into the world the way it was. My biological mom…freaked out. She hadn't known my dad was a mutant. When Theo and I were born, she dumped us on the steps of a local cathedral with a letter to the archdeacon explaining everything. Theo and I got adopted when we were two by my mom and her husband._

_"When our oldest brother, who's also adopted, developed mutant powers when I was five or six, my mom's husband turned psycho. Said he couldn't handle having a real freak living in his house. Like the rest of us were hypothetical freaks or something. He put my brother in the hospital," she added bitterly. "So my mom divorced his ass and took us to New York, enrolled my brother in this special school for mutants where they could learn to control their powers. Theo and I ended up there, too, when we got old enough. That's how my mom met Phil. He was checking the place out for his job and she was there for a parent-teacher meeting for me."_

_He couldn't think about this girl's story any longer. Couldn't think about how she, too, had been abandoned as a baby at a temple where anything could have happened to her, where she could have died, and all because she wasn't what her parents wanted her to be, and how she was taken in by another family, as he had been. Too much, they had too much in common. He couldn't afford to think of what Odin had revealed that day in the Treasure Room about Loki's history. He had to think of something else._

_"Tell me about your mother," Loki said, grasping for straws. "What does she look like? What does she do? What is her trade?"_

_"She's beautiful," Thea said wistfully. "I wish I looked like her. Blond, but she keeps her hair short 'cause she doesn't want to look like Rapunzel or whatever. Except she looks like Tinkerbelle instead when she wears green. I tried to tell her, but…anyway. Blue eyes, like mine, but they don't have any gray in them like mine do. She's a musician. Plays the piano and the cello. What about you? Do you have any family?"_

_After a long pause, Loki whispered, "No. They…no, I do not." He would never see his family again. Better to resign himself to that fact now, before it could be used against him further._

_"Oh. I'm sorry." There was an awkward silence in the conversation, then suddenly Thea said, "Hey, come here for a second. Flash your light so I can see your face." Curious, he did as she asked. Her eyes widened as they peered through the hole in the wall. "Wow."_

_Loki blinked. "What?"_

_"Don't take this the wrong way or anything, 'cause I know this is sort of coming out of nowhere, but you have the most beautiful green eyes I have_ ever _seen." When Loki only stared at her, unsure if he'd heard her correctly, she laughed a little self-consciously. "And I totally just made this awkward, didn't I? Sorry. Comes from being around teenagers, day in and day out. Sometimes I just say whatever's in my head. Sorry. So…you're an alien. You wouldn't happen to be from Mars, would you? Because that would be really cool. My students will flip when I get home if I tell them I met a Martian. Please_, please _tell me you're from Mars and I will love you forever."_

_And somehow, though he didn't know where it came, Loki actually laughed._


	10. Now You See It, Now You Don't

_Author's Note__: and here we are to save the day! And I look fabulous! Seriously, I do, even with a sore throat. Anyway, I've noticed your guys' suppositions in the latest reviews and I love you for them, thank you. I love knowing what you all are thinking. But, uh…this chapter may knock you for a loop. In a good way, hopefully. Hope you enjoy! Love you all!_

_LA_

_._

_._

Chapter Nine  
Now You See It, Now You Don't

.

.

Thor frowned, utterly baffled. "Why did she think you were a Martian?"

Loki scoffed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. "She didn't. She was simply trying to break the tension. Clever little thing, she was. Always knew just what to say to shove back the darkness, the despair." A slow shake of the head. "Her cheerfulness kept me from going mad when the dark became so oppressive I could nearly taste it."

The crown prince of Asgard knew he ought to just let his brother continue with the story. Knew that interrupting him represented its own dangers. Yet the questions about Sophie's identity still revolved around and around in Thor's brain like a tornado, refusing to leave him in peace. He had to know the truth. Loki had to explain the connection between Coulson, Thea, Sophie, and Loki and Thor themselves. What was the connection?

"Loki," Thor said softly, trying to keep his voice gentle so as not to spook or infuriate his younger brother. "Loki, tell me about Sophie." Loki flinched at the sound of the child's name. "Will you not tell me about her?"

After a moment the green-eyed prince asked in a hollow, dead voice, "What do you wish to know about her?"

A hunch and a thought had been twisting and twining in Thor's brain for several hours, ever since he'd seen the drawing of Loki holding a pregnant Thea. It couldn't be…the timing didn't work at all…but what if…? So the Asgardian asked, "Who is Sophie's father?"

An interminable silence stretched out between them, heavy as lead, brittle as glass. Loki's eyes squeezed shut and a shudder rippled through him. His hands convulsed into white-knuckled fists. The scabbed scrapes on his knuckles split and began to ooze fresh blood, but he didn't seem to notice. Thor held his breath. He could taste his pulse in the back of his throat as his heart hammered in his breast.

At last Loki shattered the silence with a simple and terrible confession. "Sophie's father is dead."

Thor's mouth fell open. Of all the things Loki could have said, somehow that had been the last one he'd expected. Trying to gather his wits, he echoed, "Dead?" Loki nodded. Scrambling for words, finally Thor managed to ask, "How?"

A cruel, sharp smile slashed across the pale, haggard face. "I killed him."

Cold horror began blooming in the pit of Thor's belly as he stared at the savage expression twisting his little brother's features. "You…you killed him?"

"Oh, yes," Loki hissed, hatred suffusing his face. "I killed the wretch. Drove a blade into his pathetic heart and watched him bleed out, watched him suffer for…for what he'd done. For leaving them there. Leaving his helpless wife and his daughter to the Chitauri."

"You killed Thea's husband, the father of her child?"

And to the prince's horror and disgust, Loki laughed—a low, bitter sound that rattled like death in his chest and echoed in the cell and down the dungeon corridor as if the place was a mausoleum. "Yes, Brother," the Frost Giant murmured, still smiling that cruel, half-mad smile. "Yes, I killed him. I killed Thea's husband and Sophie's father. I watched him die, watched his heart's blood spill like a crimson fountain until there was nothing left but an empty, desiccated husk, a dead man—if he ever was a man at all."

For a long time, Thor could only stare at Loki in sick astonishment while he sat inside his cell, eyes closed as if he were merely sleeping, head resting against the cold, bare stone with that smile on his face. Finally Thor managed, "Did…did she…know? Did she know you'd done this?"

At that, Loki's eyes opened. He blinked, and his thin black brows furrowed as if he were puzzling something out. Pursing his lips, he nodded slowly. "Yes…yes, I think she knew when I left for Midgard, to lead the invasion…I think she knew then what I would do. How it would end. She was always so clever. So wise. I think she knew."

"You killed him during the invasion?" Confusion and grief suddenly gave way to certainty and rage. It couldn't be…could it? But Loki had said he'd stabbed Thea's husband in the heart and watched him die. Which meant it could only be…"Coulson," Thor breathed. Loki's head snapped around and emerald eyes fixed on the crown prince. Loki raised one brow in silent inquiry. "Coulson was Sophie's father. _That_ is why you killed him? _That_ is the reason?"

A bizarre expression crossed Loki's face, one Thor couldn't fathom, and then the other prince threw back his head and laughed so hard tears streamed from his eyes. Thor lunged for the glass, slamming into it with even more force than the guards had reported Loki doing. Loki didn't jump or startle in any way. He simply continued laughing. Slowly he slid from a sitting position until he lay on the floor, one hand—swollen and blue-violet with bruises—covering his mouth as the mirth refused to abate.

"Stop laughing!" Thor bellowed, bringing his fists crashing against the glass like thunder. Crimson hazed across his vision. He tasted the copper tang of blood and fury. His heart threatened to burst from his ribcage. "Stop it! It isn't funny! _Stop laughing, Loki! Stop it!"_

But Loki simply spoke through his laughter. "You idiot," he gasped out. "Oh, you complete and total fool. Congratulations, you have at last discovered the great mystery! Well done, Brother!"

"Don't you dare mock me, you bast—"

"_You never listen!_" Loki suddenly roared, cutting off Thor's tirade before it could effectively begin. Laughter abruptly gone, Loki lunged to his feet. Six savage strides brought him directly in front of Thor, only the enchanted glass between them. "How dare you accuse me of murder, of such heinous crimes? _Why don't you ever listen?"_

"I _am_ listening! I am listening to the confession of a craven murderer—"

"_Shut up!_" Loki yelled. "Shut up, you idiot! I confessed to murder weeks ago, weren't you listening? All those Midgardians; I know their blood is on my hands! But you accuse me of new crimes without proof—"

Incensed, Thor shouted, "I _saw_ you kill him! And you just—"

"_Liar!_" Loki raged. The word was so not what Thor had expected that he simply stared at his brother, unable to comprehend just what his little brother was saying. "Liar! You saw _nothing!_ You _never_ see anything! You never see, you never hear! You never listen! You never _look!_"

After a moment Thor shook his head. "Will you listen to yourself? Loki, I looked right at you when you stabbed Coulson in the back, through the heart, with the Chitauri staff. I saw you do it. I know what I saw."

Just as suddenly as the rage had come, it drained away, leaving Loki a shadowed figure on the other side of the glass. He slowly shook his head before letting it thump heavily against the window. His entire body shook as his hands dropped to his sides.

"You never listen," Loki whispered, voice thick with emotion. He thumped his forehead against the glass again. "You never listen to me. You never have. Why?"

"I _am_ listening," he said coldly. "Your own words betray you, Laufeyson." Loki flinched, but Thor shoved away the concern that slashed at him and stepped back from the glass. "You murdered my ally, my friend, and for what? Because you lusted for his wife? What did you think—that she would go to you with open arms after you butchered her husband in cold blood?" Shaking his head in disgust, Thor turned on his heel and began to walk away. "Give up any hope of so-called vengeance, Loki. You'll never see it."

"The man you knew wasn't Sophie's father," Loki said, and they were perhaps the only words that could have made Thor pause. "Nor was he Thea's husband."

Thor sneered. "Enough of your lies—"

"I am _not_ lying," Loki snapped. "I would not lie about _this_, of all things. I would never lie about…about them."

The words rang with utter sincerity…but was that a trick? Yet as much as Loki seemed to love Thea and Sophie, something in Thor told him that his little brother _wouldn't_ lie where it concerned the two of them. But…"You said you killed Sophie's father."

Loki sighed. "I did." Haunted jade eyes met Thor's. "That man no longer exists. He is dead and buried."

"Then you still murdered—"

"It wasn't murder," Loki confessed softly. "He wanted to die; he knew the weight of the sins on his shoulders. I granted him that death. It was mercy, Thor. Surely you can see that. Mercy to end a life made bitter and empty by the destruction of all he held dear. And it was justice, to pay for his sins. So many sins…so much blood…"

The crown prince shook his head. "Who was he, then, if not Coulson?" If Loki would give him no other name, then it had to be Coulson, Thor thought. Otherwise why not tell him the identity of the man who'd fathered the Midgardian child? But Loki merely sighed in exasperation and pushed away from the glass.

Thor took a breath. He'd let his temper get away from him. It was still twisting and writhing in his veins, making his blood boil, but he couldn't let it make him lash out or Loki would give him nothing. Instead, the prince tried a tactic that had worked in the past—guessing.

"Did I know this man?" He asked. A moment's hesitation, then Loki nodded. "Were we friends?" Another nod. "Were we allies?" Thor held his breath, waiting for the reluctant nod that eventually came. "What was his name?"

Loki looked away, and the suspicion was cemented in Thor's mind—Loki meant Coulson. Yet Coulson had seemed surprised when Thor had mentioned the Chitauri on the SHIELD Helicarrier, had claimed no knowledge of them. And hadn't Tony, the Man of Iron, spoken to Coulson of love at several points while on the Midgardian airship? In fact, yes, Thor recalled suddenly that the SHIELD agent had been in love with a woman—not Thea, based on what both Coulson and Loki had said—but had broken off the relationship for some reason, though he still cared for her. But then what of his kidnapped wife, pregnant with their child? It didn't make sense. None of Loki's story made sense.

"Loki…why did you kill Coulson?"

His brother growled low in his throat, a sound of intense frustration, before snapping, "Killed him. Is _that_ what I did? You're so clever, why don't you tell me? Why did I do as you accuse? Hmmm?"

Thor frowned, fighting back vicious invectives that blistered his throat. Instead of snarling at his brother as he ached to do, he swallowed back the rage and grief, fought for calm, and then spoke. "You killed him because he was going to prevent you from killing me. Your brother. Your twin."

"We're not twins, Thor," Loki muttered. "We are not even brothers. I'm adopted, remember? It was a lie they spoon-fed us all this time, that we'd shared the womb together, two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin, the shadow of me to your golden light.

"I remember a shadow, Thor. I remember that shadow trying to break out of the darkness, never being allowed to do so. Always being told to know my place," he added bitterly, "which was always one step behind you. And I respected that. Even though it hurt to know that I would always be second-best, I accepted and respected that my place was at your right hand, because you were the heir and we were brothers, and that's what brothers _do_.

"Except I have real brothers, and they wish me dead for killing Laufey, the father who left me to die. I have foster brothers—Víðarr, Hermod, Balder, Tyr—and they want me dead for what I did to you. Then there's my so-called twin, the light to my shadow." Loki spat the words, dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "You want me dead, too.

"Do not try to deny it!" He shouted when Thor opened his mouth to protest. "You tried to kill me. I clung to Odin's staff above the abyss, I reached for your hand, and you dropped me into the void. You left me to die! And you have the gall to stand there and act as if what I did was any worse? How did it feel, Thor, to tumble through the air, fearing that once you hit the ground you would shatter, unable to get up again until your enemies found you?"

"So it was revenge," Thor replied through numb lips. Pain pulsed through his chest once, twice, like twin arrows of ice piercing deep. "You tried to kill me out of revenge because of what happened to you on the Chitauri home-world."

Loki suddenly looked very tired. Slumping back against the wall, he heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You never listen. You haven't heard a word I've said, not in all this time. Why do I bother telling you anything? Why do I bother, since you obviously don't care enough to listen?" Still shaking his head, sliding to the floor, Loki said wearily, "Go away, Thor. Tell the queen you tried, but that the man she loved as a son is long dead. Tell Odin he was right—that you've seen I am nothing but a liar and a traitor, a coward and a murderer. Tell our brothers you were a fool to believe there was anything left to salvage. Go away…just go away."

Something hung betwixt them, delicate as a filament of gossamer, hanging on a precipice that yawned between the two brothers like a gaping abyss. Thor swallowed hard, wondering if he were wasting his time when he said, "I promised you I would listen. I keep my promises."

_Laughter shouldn't sound like dry bones scraping against gravestones_, Thor thought as Loki chuckled. What was so funny? Anger seethed beneath Thor's skin, mingled with pain and confusion until he thought he might go mad. The conflicting emotions must've shown on the crown prince's face, because Loki sighed again and seemed to take pity on him.

"Thor, why are you bothering with this? You don't believe me. I can see it on your face. You have tried, haven't you? Done what the queen asked. Let it be now."

"She's not the queen," Thor replied on impulse. "She's our _mother_…and she's worried about you, Loki. So is our father—"

"_Your_ father wishes he'd left me to die out there in the cold wastes of Jötunheim," Loki said tonelessly. "And _you_ wish I hadn't survived my tumble through the void—"

"_Don't you dare say that!_" Thor snapped. The sharp tone seemed to pierce the other prince's sudden apathy a little; he frowned at Thor, clearly bemused. "I _didn't_ drop you off the Bifröst, you idiot! I _didn't_ want Banner to beat you to death when he found you in Stark Tower! I _didn't_ want you to break your neck when you fell from the Rainbow Bridge! You're my brother, damn you. You have betrayed me countless times, hurt me, tried to kill me, but you are still my little brother and I love you. So shut up! Stop saying I want you dead! It isn't true!"

Loki stared at him, jaw slightly slack, eyes wide. The dancing firelight made them gleam as if they were wet. He blinked several times and clenched his jaw, looking away. Slowly drawing his left knee up to his chest, he draped his arm across it and hunched his shoulders, staring at nothing as his brows knotted together above the bridge of his nose. A thin scar sliced across Loki's nose—from Banner's beating, Thor remembered. Loki pressed one fist against his mouth and hung his head so that the dark strands of his hair fell around his face like a curtain. A tremor shook the thin shoulders before subsiding.

"Brother?" Thor whispered, wondering at this sudden posture. It was a pose of tightly-controlled pain, one the blue-eyed Asgardian had seen his brother take but rarely in their lives. What was Loki thinking? What was he doing? Was Thor about to finally break through that shield of ice and poisonous sarcasm his little brother constantly employed?

"I didn't try to kill you, Thor," Loki whispered at last. "I needed you out of the way."

Forcing himself to remain calm, the prince took his recently-vacated chair, sinking into the soft cushions slowly to give himself time to formulate a proper response. "You have always been very clever, Brother," he finally said. "Could you think of no other way—"

"I'm not clever," Loki replied. Thor's brows furrowed at the unexpected words. Loki still wasn't looking at him, but at seeming nothingness. "All my plans, my brilliant schemes…the best ones were always formulated under times of great danger to me, to us."

"Those _were_ the best," Thor agreed cautiously.

"They were also the ones with the most holes, the least likely chances of success. Luck was what always brought us through, not my cunning. You always had an extraordinary amount of luck. Born under a lucky star, Mother always said."

Sensing his brother was going somewhere vital with this—and having not missed Loki's use of the word "Mother"—Thor shrugged, a casual gesture belying the maelstrom of emotions and thoughts whirling around inside of him. "You've had your fair share of luck in the past."

Loki chuckled weakly. "It ran out that day."

"The day we stopped this invasion?" Thor asked, unsure. "Or the day I returned from exile?"

Dark lashed drifted down to make black crescents against Loki's thin, white cheeks as he closed his eyes. "The day I met Thea. I thought I knew desperation before then, but I was a fool. I couldn't think clearly with so much at stake. More than there ever had been before. I couldn't tear my mind away from what I was trying to do in order to think of the best way to do it. Something made it almost impossible. There was too much rage, too much f—"

Loki cut himself off, swallowing hard. It was several moments before he opened his eyes and continued, "Thea said she felt a shadow growing in my mind, but she couldn't tell what it was, if it was the effect of our captivity or…but no. I could think of no other way to take you out of the battle. I knew you wouldn't die. If my plummet through space hadn't killed me, such a small tumble wouldn't have killed you, but it would have hurt you just enough."

Thor shook his head, protesting, "I don't understand, Loki. Why did you want me out of the battle?"

The hurt on his brother's face was a fleeting shadow, but he saw it. The green-eyed prince asked softly, "Do you not know? You said it yourself once. 'I will not fight you, Brother.'"

"But you _did_ fight me that day on the Bifröst."

He nodded, his expression almost musing. "That's true, I did." He flicked his eyes to Thor's face. The vicious pain in the depths of the viridian gaze sent a pulse of sympathetic pain through the crown prince's heart. "I fought you then, because I knew I wouldn't have to kill you in order to win the battle. But in a battle for Midgard and its people? I knew I would have to destroy you utterly in order to do what was needed, because you would never back down."

"And on the Bifröst? During the explosion? You were caught in the backlash when I destroyed the Bridge because you leapt to attack me. Did you mean to kill me then?"

"I meant to _stop_ you," Loki murmured. "I meant to knock Mjölnir from your hands so that you would have no choice but to stop trying to shatter the Bifröst. I _had_ to destroy Jötunheim, or they would kill us all, and you wouldn't let me. I was…desperate. As I've said, my desperate plans are always the ones most likely to backfire."

Thor wondered if he were mad to believe his brother…but he _did_ believe. Loki hadn't tried to kill him. He'd only been desperate—_insanely_ desperate—to protect what mattered to him: Asgard, his family…and Thea and Sophie.

"Why did you say nothing?" He demanded. "Why not explain?"

Loki scoffed. "As if it would matter. It doesn't."

"It does, Loki, it _does_ matter. It changes—"

"Nothing," he snapped with a little of his old venom. "It changes _nothing_. Thea is still dead. Sophie is dead. They are both dead, Thor, and nothing can change that."

It would be the end of this conversation, the rational part of Thor thought, and the death of any future revelations from his little brother…but Thor had to ask, and he had to have the right answer. He didn't know why, but he _needed_ Loki to admit it if they were going to continue this.

"Did you love her? Did you love Thea?" Thor demanded. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, but said nothing. "Were you in love with her?"

Loki turned his face away, as if to hide from the question. "Thor, why must you ask such stupid questions? Of course I didn't love a Midgardian—"

"Did you love her?" Thor snapped. "Not a Midgardian, not a mortal. _Thea_. The woman whose name spills from your lips like a prayer, the woman whose death has been carved into your heart as if with a blade. The woman who makes your soul bleed every time you think of her. Did you love _Thea?_ Were you in love with her?"

"Thor—"

"Were you in love with her?"

"_Dammit_, Thor—"

"_Were you?_"

"_YES!_" The word was a cry of pure, unadulterated anguish. Loki shoved his hands through his hair, clutching cruelly at the dark strands as terrible agony twisted his drawn features, as he bit his lip until blood came. "_Yes_, damn you, I loved her. I _loved_ her, and now she's dead because I couldn't commit genocide, because I couldn't conquer a world to save her. Because I wasn't strong enough, desperate enough, clever enough, ruthless enough to protect her, _and now she's dead!_

"Are you happy now? Are you pleased? Proud of yourself, that you've wrenched this from me? Yes, I loved her! I loved her more than my own life, more than my freedom, more than food or water or breath." He dropped his hands to stare at them with something akin to horror, or perhaps it was despair. "My hands are gushing with red…for her. I did it all to save her. To save Sophie. And they're both dead. My girls. My beautiful girls, my _alsklingar_. I swore to protect them…" Loki dropped his face into his hands. "I loved them both. I did. I _did_."

"Loki?" The soft, tender voice was not Thor's. Both men turned at the sound of the younger prince's name being called to see Frigga, shrouded in a black gown, hovering at the edge of the pool of light cast by the torches. The sorrow and surprise on her pale face told Thor that his mother had heard at least part of Loki's confession of love for Thea. She stepped closer. "Loki."

For a long, terrible moment, there was only silence. Then from behind Thor came the sound of a sharply drawn breath and the rustle of clothing. Loki whispered, "Mother? What are you doing here?"

Frigga rushed to the window, pressing her shaking hands against the glass. Thor watched as Loki slowly rose to his feet. Moving like a reanimated corpse, he approached the queen and laid his hands against where hers rested on the window. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against the glass as if in surrender. A look of defeat settled over his features.

"Mother, you promised me you would not come here."

Thor started in surprise. Why had Loki made Frigga promise such a thing? The prince knew his mother would never have sworn an oath like that without prompting from her foster son. She'd been desperate to speak to Loki ever since he'd begun telling Thor about his captivity at the hands of the Chitauri.

"Does Father know you're here?" Thor asked gently.

The queen shook her head before focusing once more on her younger son. "Loki, I want to speak to you. Privately," she added to Thor, but it was Loki who protested.

"No, Mother. No, I—"

"Please," she said. It was all she said, just the one word, but Thor could see in his brother's eyes that Loki didn't possess the strength to turn Frigga away, and now he knew why Loki had always been so careful to refer to her as _the queen_ instead of _Mother_: because here was the one person the foster prince still loved wholly and unequivocally, without any reserve; the one person Loki would tell anything to if she asked him. He hadn't wanted Thor to know that, had been afraid of what Thor could use Frigga to find out…because if he'd been ruthless enough, he could have used her to force Loki to tell him _everything_.

Loki drew back from the glass, but slowly, as if it pained him to do it. He hung his head, eyes downcast. A sigh shuddered out of him. He looked off to one side as if there would be answers there. "Mother, please. Why are you doing this? You gave me your word."

"If you will not speak to Thor, then you will speak to me, Loki," she said.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides, then nodded. "I will speak to Thor if you promise to go."

Which astonished the prince quite a bit. "You would rather speak to me than Mother?"

"The two of you will tell each other everything anyway," Loki muttered.

Thor had the strangest feeling that this wasn't entirely the real reason his brother wanted him there instead of Frigga, but he said nothing to that, merely offering his mother a truncated bow. Frigga nodded first to her natural son, then to her adopted one, before turning away and leaving the dungeons.

"Have you told the All-Father any of this?" Loki asked Thor as their mother's footsteps faded into the distance. A moment's hesitation, then the crown prince shook his head. Loki nodded as if this confirmed something. "Very well." Going to the table, he dropped down into his own chair. "You know, you really are irritating. Why do you continue to pester me?"

"You promised me the story," the elder brother replied, as if that should explain everything. "I want it."

Loki smiled ruefully. "In some ways, you haven't changed at all. You know that, don't you?" They shared a smile, the first in a long time, then Loki sighed. "I am so tired, Thor. Would it not simply be easier if you just killed me?"

Thor scowled. Growling like an irate bear, he snapped, "That isn't funny."

"I wasn't joking. There is a line of mortal verse Thea told me once. It's remarkably apt, these mortal rhymes. '_Ah, dear Althea…I will stay with thee; and never from this palace of dim night depart again: here, here will I remain with worms that are thy chambermaids. Lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death._' Except there is no kiss, and there is no death, much as I may long for it. There is only this endless purgatory."

"You don't really want to die, Loki."

He scoffed. "What do you know of it?" He demanded bitterly. "Nothing. You don't know what it's like to think you still have one last hope, only to have it snatched from you at the very last. You have no idea what it feels like to be told that your…that the woman you love is dead, through your failures."

Taking a gamble, the elder prince replied, "Then tell me. That is what you want, isn't it? For me to know your pain? For me to feel your grief?"

Loki said nothing for what seemed an eternity. At last, however, he said, "There was nothing in the darkness but that small light she offered, and the sound of her voice. I came to depend upon it. It was that, or succumb to the pitiless silence, the hungry dark. She offered me succor, even though she didn't know me, had no reason to be kind to me. Such kindness. I've never known its like before."

"We have never been unkind to you," Thor protested before he could stop himself.

The pseudo-_Æsir_ raised a sardonic brow. "You are so blind, Brother. You always have been. You see only what you wish to see, instead of what's right in front of you." When the Asgardian opened his mouth to protest, Loki demanded, "Do you want the story or don't you?"

Thor closed his mouth. Time enough to deal with Loki's allegations of unkindness later. He nodded for his little brother to continue.

"She was always so cheerful," Loki continued, in a low voice soft with remembrance. "I couldn't fathom it, how she could remain so bright in the dark. She'd been kidnapped, hurt, locked in a cage without light or access to the outside world. She only had me. I didn't understand how she could stay so optimistic…"

.

_"What are you doing?" Loki asked some hours later as a series of_ thuds _echoed from the other side of the wall. "Thea?" His voice sharpened when she didn't respond. Unease whispered like the faintest traces of poison in his veins. He pressed himself against the wall. He could feel the steady percussion of something heavy hitting the stone. Tiny bits of rubble skittered out of the hole between their cells and rattled to the floor. "Are you all right?"_

_"I'm (thud) fine (thud), just (thud) trying to (thud) make this (thud-thud) stupid hole (thud-a-thud-thud) bigger!" Panting for breath, she hit the wall again. "Ow! This is (thud) making my (thud) feet hurt."_

_Loki's brows rose and incredulity flooded him. "Are you kicking the wall?"_

_The smile was obvious in her voice when she gasped out, "Worked last time, didn't it? Sort of. Maybe I'll feel better if I yell 'hi-ya!' That always works in the movies. Hi-ya! (thud) Ow. Yeah, that didn't help. Whatever, time to see what the damage is."_

_Rustling issued from the dimly lit shadows on the other side of the wall, and then the beam of her flashlight illuminated the area she'd been pummeling with her feet. Loki peered through the hole in time to see a quick gleam of teeth as the mortal woman grinned. Then the light skated around the cell to land on a dark mass tucked against one wall. The beam wobbled as Thea crawled toward the mass—which was probably one of her two packs._

_Why had the Chitauri let her keep them? It didn't make sense. But Loki wouldn't worry about it now. He listened to Thea rooting around in her pack before exclaiming in triumph. Scraping ensued as she scrambled back to the wall._

_"This should be so much easier now," she muttered. A familiar_ chink-chink-chunk-chank _sound followed, and tiny fragments of stone crumbled to the floor. "See, my mom's got one of those old-fashioned nail files that supposedly you can saw through prison bars with. I don't know why. And there aren't any bars in here anyway, which stinks because that would make this a bit more fun—funner? More fun? I dunno, you know what I mean—but whatever, you take what you can get."_

_"But you cannot escape that way," Loki said. Surely she didn't think_ he _knew a way to get out of his own cell, or surely he would have done so by now. So why did she want to make the hole bigger?_

_She made a rude noise of derision. "Yeah, I know that. I'm not trying to escape. I already checked all the other walls for cracks. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. That's not the point."_

_"Then what_ is _the point?"_

_"The point is that a) I'm bored out of my mind and the only things to do are talk and take a nail-file to this stupid hole, and b) I want to see your entire face. It seems like a nice face. I like your chin."_

_He blinked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "My chin?"_

_"What little I saw of it, yeah. And you have a dimple in your left cheek, did you know that? Totally cute. You're covered in dirt, but I'm not exactly a supermodel right now, either. You should see me when I'm not totally gross. You'd be all over me like sprinkles on a strawberry sundae."_

_If he didn't focus on the minutia of her little sayings, he found they made sense—usually. "Oh, would I?" He asked, smiling. The muscles in his face protested the unfamiliar strain. "And why is that?"_

_"Because," she replied tightly. He could hear her doing…well, it sounded like she was attempting to pry a piece of stone out of the wall. "I am stunning to behold. I am God's gift to men. I'm a love goddess…minus the sexy fun time part. So just the beauty part, but beauty goddess sounds weird, so just go with it. Oh, for crying out loud, what is holding this wall together? Cement? I—will—pry—you—out—now!" There was a loud_ crack, _Thea yelped, and then there was another_ crack. "_Ow, ow, ow! Are you serious? Ow!"_

_The smell of rust and salt trickled in through the somewhat bigger hole in the wall. Loki was fairly certain he could easily shove his arm through up to the shoulder. He knew the scent carried on the stale air—blood. "Thea?"_

_"Tore my fingernail," she whispered, voice taut with pain. "It's bleeding a bit. Great. Ow, that really hurts. Mmph." When she spoke again, her voice came muffled, as if she had something in her mouth. Her injured finger? "Thon of a theabath. That hurth. If thith geth infected, I'm gonna be pithed. Grrr, thay thomething to dithtract me, pleathe."_

_Loki cast about for a topic, but the only one he could think of was something he'd managed to scrape together enough energy to be interested in. "You spoke of your powers. What are they?"_

_"Hmmm? Oh," she said, and he realized she'd pulled her finger out of her mouth. "Illusions. Basically. And limited telepathy in conjunction with the illusions. Like, I can't read your mind, even if I wasn't wearing this stupid inhibitor collar—I will_ kill _these goons when I get my hands on them—but my illusion works with your brain, you know? So, for example, I could stick someone in a memory and my illusion pulls all the sensory information out of their brains automatically to formulate that illusion. So like, if I trapped you in a memory of the hottest day you'd ever experienced, my power automatically pulls stuff—like how hot it felt, whether there was a breeze, how itchy your shirt felt after you got a sunburn, all that stuff—out of your brain and makes you feel it all over again. That also works if I want to trap you in one of_ my _memories. And once I cast the illusion from someone's memory, I've got that memory, too. Since I have an eidetic memory, I never forget anything."_

_"A what?"_

_"Eidetic," she repeated, enunciating the word carefully. "A photographic memory. I never forget stuff. Once it's in my noggin, it's there forever. I actually remember being born, strangely enough. What makes that great is that I can take a mishmash of memories and make new illusions based on the data in my brain. So if I wasn't wearing this collar, say, I could cast an illusion of my room, and we could actually interact with it and all that, because of all the sensory information stored in my head."_

_He stopped to consider the implications of such a talent. "So you could trick someone into thinking anything? Anything at all?" When she made an affirmative sound, the dark part of his mind made him ask, "Could you make someone think they were dying?"_

_"Yeah, but it wouldn't actually_ kill _them. Survival instinct is too strong. I can hurt people, though, if I concentrate hard enough. Trap them in memories I have of bad things that have happened to me. Like once a pot of boiling water fell on my foot, and one time I went swimming and got tangled up in some weeds and nearly drowned._

_"It's just really hard to get to that point. The professor spent a long time drilling into my head_ not _to do that to people, because the last person who had a gift like mine was crazy. For a long time there was a mental block in my mind so I_ couldn't _do that kind of thing. My power's not really good for offensive or defensive stuff, really. I'm sorry._

_"Hey, Loki," she added suddenly, sounding a bit forlorn. The shift in her tone of voice was enough to catch his attention. "Do you think…maybe…well, it's kinda dark in here, even with the flashlight, and I've got this thing about the dark if I'm stuck in it for too long, and I just…'cause my powers aren't really working. I mean, I can project an illusion for myself even with the collar, but I can't touch it or anything, so it's not really helping. And I'm all alone in here, kinda freaking out a little, so I was wondering if maybe…could you hold my hand for a sec? I think mine will fit through the hole okay."_

_He jolted. To touch her…the first gentle, friendly touch he'd known in six months. The last time anyone had touched him like that had been after he'd put an end to Laufey. His mother had taken him in her arms, so proud of him for protecting his father. To know a kind touch once more…_

_Loki cleared his throat. "Of course."_

_In the dim light of the flashlight she'd given him, a slender pale thing emerged from the blackness of the wall like a white lily blooming in the twilight. Questing fingers grasped at the air. With an arm that shook, Loki lifted his hand and caught Thea's._

_The silken touch of her skin was a shock after nothing but grit, muck, blood, and stone all this time. Her hand was dirty, but beneath the light dusting of broken wall bits was skin as soft as satin. The delicate bones moved beneath the flesh as she startled at the touch of Loki's large and callused hand. Then her fingers closed convulsively around his and she made a small sound. She clasped his hand, and he gripped hers, squeezing gently. A strange tingle began in his fingertips and shot up his arm. Heat washed down his spine._

_There was a flash of light, emerald and ivory intertwined in a blinding corona…and suddenly he wasn't in his cell anymore. He was outside, but not on the Chitauri home-world. Loki scrunched his eyes shut against the vicious glare of the sun and covered his face with his forearm. Only after a long, long moment could he pull his arm back down again to look around him._

_Grass burst vividly green from the soil all around, except under his feet. He stood on some sort of rectangular stone courtyard painted with orange, white, and red lines. Two metal poles topped with white boards and red hoops with nets underneath stood on opposite ends of the stone courtyard. There were stone and wood buildings nearby, trees and a fountain, and an orange sphere laced with black lines sat on the ground beside one of the metal poles. A gentle breeze ruffled the grass._

_Beside one of the poles stood a woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with long dark hair tumbling down her back and familiar blue-gray eyes. Though no dirt smeared the heart-shaped face, Loki still recognized her. Judging by the way hers eyes widened and her jaw went slack, she recognized him, as well._

_"Thea?"_

_"What the frack?" She yelped, stepping backward, and then Loki was back in his cell, plunged into darkness, no longer clasping Thea's slender hand in his own. On the other side of the wall, he could hear her mumbling, "No freaking way. No way. How the…what…how_…what?"

_"What just happened?" Loki whispered. "Where were we?"_

_After a moment, Thea said, "That was the school where I work. Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It was a memory. The same one I was thinking of when I asked if I could hold your hand, because I couldn't bring it up all the way."_

_Realization struck Loki like a thunderbolt. "Then that means, if you're touching me, then you can—"_

_"Then I can use my powers."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Author's Note__: well, now…what do we think of the current plot developments? Any thoughts? Hmmm? Also, if you guys look for me on Pinterest, I have an entire Pinterest Board dedicated to art I've made for this fic, so hopefully you all like that. Feel free to comment and stuff. Hugs to everyone! Let me know what you think of this chapter, okay?_


	11. Booyacashah

_Author's Note__: so before anyone reads any further, I did some research into how torture victims deal with being tortured. During the torture, I mean. So before they get rescued. And one thing that was very common was being willing to do just about anything (short of illegal—in some cases, anyway) in order to forget what was waiting to happen. You see quite a bit of that in this chapter. I also read that two people in a high-stress, super-tense, life-or-death situation like this will latch onto each other in ways they wouldn't normally, forming incredibly strong ties. So, with that said…I hope you enjoy the chapter._

_Welcome, new readers! Hello again, returning readers! This is our longest chapter so far (and will probably be one of the longest in the fic) but I just couldn't find a good place to break it off before I did. And of course this chap is full of tidbits and teasers to drive you all crazy. Let me know if it's working, okay? Loves to you all!_

_LA_

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Chapter Ten  
Booyacashah  
(Or the Interrogation Begins)

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"Why did touching you allow her to use her talents?" Thor interrupted. Loki shot him a look, but the elder prince pressed on, "Was her gift a form of _seiðr_? Was that it? Or was it that your powers were compatible?"

"We didn't know," Loki replied, and for some reason the words wavered as he whispered them into the room. A brief flicker of pain cast a fleeting shadow across his face. "I still don't."

"If you had the use of her gift, then why did you not escape?"

Loki growled, "If you would perhaps allow me to _finish_—"

Thor held up his hand and Loki sighed before gesturing for him to ask whatever question preyed upon his mind. The crown prince hesitated, then asked, "Before you continue, I need to know…you are certain that Sophie's father is dead?"

Green eyes closed wearily. "Yes."

"You killed him."

Thin lips curled in a smirk and the pale prince replied, "I suppose, in a way, so did you. Yes, I think his blood stains your hands as well. Don't you feel it, Brother? The burn of innocent blood like acid against your skin? I know that pain well. The savage bite of regret…"

Hope flared in Thor's chest. "Then you regret it? Midgard, the attack on Jötunheim, sending the Destroyer? Coulson? Lying to me about Father?"

"I don't regret telling you Odin was dead," Loki said coolly. Thor flinched as if he'd been stung. Those cold eyes like glacial emeralds fixed on the prince's face. "It worked, didn't it?"

Thor frowned. "Worked? What do you mean?" When Loki said nothing, the Asgardian snapped, "If you mean you succeeded in breaking my heart, then yes. Yes, it worked, Brother. Are you pleased by that?"

"I am pleased that it _worked_, yes," he said softly. "And I do not regret what I did to your Agent Coulson, either. Or to Agent Romanoff, for that matter." Disgust twisted Loki's features, morphing them into a hideous mask. "That self-righteous little hypocrite, pretending to some higher purpose, some halo like an angel, as if she weren't doing the exact same thing I intended…only her betrayal was deeper. I never intended to help the Chitauri conquer Asgard. I only allowed them to think I would help lead the Midgardian invasion because I needed time until Sophie was…"

Loki's eyes squeezed shut. The hand he'd laid on the table convulsed into a fist so tight Thor's own knuckles felt the strain. His little brother drew a deep, shuddering breath that seemed as if it hurt. He hung his head, minute tremors shivering through his long, lean frame, and rasped, "I should have _been_ there for Thea when…it was my task to be there, to help her, to try to…but I was _busy_. With more 'important' matters. Busy trying to play the charade to the end so the Chitauri wouldn't…but they killed her anyway. I should have expected it. The Chitauri always need fresh blood, after all. I was blind and foolish to think they would keep their word to me."

Thor leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees. Gazing at his brother intently, he searched the haggard features for some sign, some proof. Because Loki had said such things often before…but Odin would need definitive evidence, and so far they didn't have much.

"They would have let her live had you succeeded in conquering Midgard," Thor murmured. Loki pursed his lips. "And you would have…what? Made her your vassal? The wife of one of Earth's mightiest heroes brought to heel?" The words were sharp but the tone was gentle; surely Loki could see the folly of such an idea.

But his brother scoffed, flashing that irritating and familiar sneer that made Thor's blood boil in his veins. "One of Earth's mightiest heroes? Her husband was hardly _that_."

"Do _not_ mock Coulson, Loki—"

"I wasn't," he replied wearily. "And I would not have made her my vassal." A faraway look came into Loki's eyes and the sorrow there suddenly seemed a thousand times heavier. As heavy as Mjölnir. "I would have made her my queen. I would have set her on a throne and given her a crown, would have demanded the Midgardians at last give her the respect she deserved. I would've protected her people, as you have failed to do."

"Her people?"

"The mutants," Loki said. "They are hunted by the so-called 'normal' mortals, attacked, often killed. Do you know how many times Thea had seen such violence? Her school where she tutored children of her ilk was a safe haven, but it was a rare one indeed. You're the protector of Midgard—how do you not know this?" Before Thor could reply, Loki added, "But of course it was stupid of me to hope the Chitauri would actually keep her and Sophie safe. Would actually spare her. If they couldn't harness her powers as a weapon, they would use her blood as a tool."

Oddly chilled, Thor shook his head. "Use her blood?" He echoed, just the words filling him with a strange sense of foreboding. "What do you mean, use her blood?

Loki's gaze took on a half-mad edge and shocks of blue threaded through the green as he whispered, "Don't you know? Chitauri power, their technology and their _seiðr_, is fueled by blood and pain. Agony resonates with their power. Anguish and despair feed it, make it stronger. The Chitauri are a parasite that feed on bloodshed and pain. Such things only give them more power. You've seen it…" Seeing Thor's baffled expression, Loki scoffed. "But of course, Brother, you had no idea what you were looking at."

"What are you talking about, Loki?"

There was a moment's hesitation, then Loki said, "After I tell you this, do you want the rest of the story? Because my answer will give you questions, but you must wait for their answers."

Thor weighed his options briefly before nodding. "I can wait, Brother."

"Your word?" Loki prompted.

"My word."

"Very well. You saw the thing I speak of on the day I stabbed Coulson with the Chitauri staff."

"_What?_" When Loki only smiled and shook his head in indulgent exasperation, offering only infuriating silence, Thor growled, "No! No, you cannot say things like that to me and then…" Then he recalled Loki demanding his word on the matter, and snarled like an enraged lion. "Well played, Brother. Very well, tell the rest of your story…but I won't forget this."

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_"Then I can use my powers," Thea whispered. The single thread of hope in her voice was enough to nearly strangle Loki. He hadn't even noticed the absence of hope, with all of the girl's forced joviality, until it had returned. "We can get out of here."_

_Suddenly all of Loki's attention sharpened, focusing on the Midgardian woman. "What?" It was too much to hope for, too much to consider…but…but if they…_

_"If I can use my powers, then I can trick the guards into letting us out. I mean, it'll be hard—really hard, practically impossible, because I'll pretty much be casting blind—but it could work. All I have to do is make an illusion that their superior, whoever he is, comes up and tells them there's been a change of plans and to let us out and take us to the head guy. Whatever his name is. Except when they let us out, then I can hit them with, oh, I dunno…blindness. See how they like being stuck in the dark without being able to see jack."_

_Loki's heart threatened to shatter the fragile cage of his ribs as the full force of Thea's words struck him. Out? He—they—could get out? Out of this box, this coffin? Out into the light, the fresh air? He would see light, real light from the glowing surfaces he'd glimpsed illuminating the corridor before the Chitauri had shoved him into his cell and slammed the door. He would be able to feel the wind against his face for the first time in so long…_

_But it would take careful planning. Everything would have to be accounted for, every detail, every potential pitfall. After all, Thea couldn't cast an illusion over the entire compound…could she?_

_Tasting something too wild to be hope and too light to be desperation, he asked her that very thing._

_"Oh, tech_-no._No way. Not that many people. I can do…well, in practice, the most I could ever do was a couple dozen, and they had to be in close proximity to each other—like, in the same room—and it couldn't be anything super complicated. This will definitely be complicated. I'll have to get the guys who let us out, but if we run into the guy I'm making the illusion of, I don't know what will happen."_

_Everything in him yearned, ached to scream that it didn't matter, that they would make a run for it at the nearest opportunity, that they would escape no matter what it took…but Loki wasn't so far out of touch with sanity that he actually did so. All would be for naught if they slipped their shackles only to be caught outside their cells through an easily avoided mistake. They had to be rational about this. They had to be clever, cunning._

_In truth, they might not be able to do it at all. That was a highly likely possibility that throbbed in his mind like a vicious toothache, leaving him edgy and restless as a prowling wolf in a cage._

_And the thought of the outside world was like a siren song in his brain, whispering to him of everything he'd missed in the past six moons. Fresh air, real food, crystal-clear water. The song of the summer birds, the rustle of the wind through tall grass, the crashing surf against the shores of Asgard. So much; he'd missed so much, and now it all lay within his grasp if only—_

_"I'm a little giddy, actually," Thea blurted into the dimness. He turned to her, peering through the break in the wall to see she clutched her flashlight so hard the beam wavered as it illuminated her dirty, bloodied face. Her eyes were too wide in her face, Loki thought. She was slipping, as he was, now that possible escape tantalized so cruelly. "Are you giddy? Or is it just me? I hope it's not just me, or I'm going to feel pretty stupid._

_"It'd be like that time I was at a party and everyone was drinking except me and they were just buzzed but I was all, 'Whooooo, whooooo.' Because of the smell, it was just getting to me, making me loosen up a little too much. Some people are like that, did you know? And, you know, semi-telepathic powers and alcohol don't mix, right? So I'd basically dropped acid because once my shields started flickering I was getting everybody's buzz and it was making my powers do weird things and I am_ so_babbling right now, I am_ so _sorry, we're supposed to be discussing important stuff but here I am, freaking out because I like you and all, but I wanna go home, this Evil Box of Darkness sucks even though the company's great and oh my gosh I'm freaking out, I gotta get out of here."_

_She bit down on her knuckles and squeezed her eyes shut, hunching her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she added desperately. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this kind of pressure. We can get out if I don't mess up, holy crap I'm gonna mess up, we're gonna get killed, I'm gonna get you killed and then I'll go to Hell for letting you die, Phil is going to murder me—"_

_"Thea," Loki said sharply, recognizing the rising hysteria and knowing he had to curb it now before she broke beneath it. Her gaze snapped to his face, her panicked expression framed by the edges of the hole in the wall. "It's all right," Loki added a touch more gently. "We need to plan first."_

_She nodded. "Plan. Plan is good. Why am I freaking out? I don't know. Oh, yes, I do. If I mess up, we die. You die. Why aren't you freaking out? I could get us killed."_

_"Then you will have to practice." If she wasn't used to working under pressure, he would have to find a way to change that, to give her the necessary experience. And they didn't know all the limits implemented by the inhibitor collar. If she had to be touching Loki in order to cast her illusions, then that would make things very difficult. What if they lost hold of each other during the escape? What then? And what if there were more pitfalls?_

_"Practice?" Thea echoed, but not as if she was surprised. More as if she was trying to think of something. "The professor always said I needed to practice the more difficult stuff in case some whacked out stuff happened, instead of just using it to hide from all my so-called problems. I'll have to tell him he was right when I get back. Here's a question, though—how do we get out of here after we get out of our cells? I mean, if the Chitauri are aliens, then are we…are we even on Earth? If not, how do we get back to Earth? Or…where are you from? You're not a Martian—even with those gorgeous green eyes—so what planet are you from exactly? Would it be easier to make it back there instead?"_

_For some reason it was difficult for him to remember why it wasn't easier when she said things like that. Gorgeous green eyes. And she'd mentioned his eyes before…and his chin, strangely enough. She was flattering him; why? What did she hope to accomplish by it?_

_"Loki?" Her voice held an oddly vulnerable quaver to it that struck him in a bizarre way. What if…just perhaps…she wasn't flattering him? A woman—more of a child, really, as all Midgardians were compared to his race…or rather, Thor's race—held captive, frightened of the monsters and of being in the dark, longing for home…perhaps she needed him, truly needed him, as much as he was loath to admit he needed her. "Loki? Hey, you okay?"_

_"Fine," he replied absently, shaken by the thoughts crowding into his brain. No one had ever needed him before. Thor had relied upon him in battle…yet somehow it wasn't the same. But she'd asked him a question. She'd asked him about Asgard, whether they could return to it. "No, we cannot go to…to my home." Or any of the other realms that knew of the Æsir, or they would send word to Odin as soon as Loki was recognized. "We would need to go to Midgard."_

_Thea sighed. There was a rustling and a soft_ thump _as she slumped back against the wall. In the faint ambience of the flashlight, he saw her slender fingers creep through the hole in the stone, so white against the shadows. After a moment's hesitation, Loki covered them with his._

_"You're trembling," he murmured. It was the first sign of actual fear—as opposed to simple nerves—he'd seen from her._

_"I am freaking out. I don't know if I can do this. What if I can't project an illusion without touching someone? There's a girl I went to school with whose power is limited like that. I can't touch the Chitauri from in here. We'll be stuck, just like before."_

_"Then we will be no worse off," he said. "For now, you must calm yourself." So strange, that he should be the one gentling her, when she had been his savior mere hours ago. "Perhaps you can try practicing. You said illusions help you feel calm?"_

_Another sigh. "Yeah. Let's try that and see what happens."_

_That same tingling began in the tips of his fingers, buzzing across his palm and shooting up his arm to flood him with heat that washed down his spine and filled his veins with white fire. It didn't hurt. It felt almost like it should have, but it didn't. There was that same flash of light, vivid jade and creamy porcelain whiteness, and then a blinding flare of brilliancy that had Loki raising his arm to cover his eyes._

_He felt the wind. It ruffled the long green tunic he wore, ran caressing breezy fingers through his hair. A hollow_ bongk, bongk, bongk _filled the air. Steady percussion thudded through the firm, stony ground under his feet. Slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the glare again, he lowered his arm and looked around._

_They were back on the strange stone courtyard, the sunlight shining down on them. His eyes suddenly felt wind-stung as he realized he could actually_ feel _the sweet warmth of it gliding across his face, along his skin. Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and smelled the crisp sweetness of grass just after rainfall. Each blade shone vibrant and flush with green life in the golden glow of the sun. The playful zephyr carried with it the scents of fresh-laid hay, warm horse, clean leather, and timber; there was a stable nearby. Birdsong—how he'd missed simple birdsong—chirped and cheeped from the nearby stands of trees._

_Thea stood beside one of the metal poles, bouncing the orange sphere—a ball, he realized now, though a somewhat large one—against the stone underneath her feet. With the surprise of the illusion dulled somewhat, Loki took a moment to actually look at her._

_Chestnut hair fell in thick waves down her back; streaks of honey-blond from the sun twined through the coppery-brown tresses. A thin white shirt with three-quarter sleeves allowed her to move easily as she continued to bounce the orange ball. Her well-worn, blue trousers seemed to be made of some sturdy material, like canvas but somewhat softer. Words had been stitched everywhere in a myriad of colors._

_"Hey," she called, beaming at him. "Catch."_

_The ball shot toward him. A strange itching sensation prickled at the nape of his neck, and his hands came up automatically to catch the ball. It was hard and rubbery, covered in tiny bumps, but warm from the sun. The crisscrossing black lines formed a pattern that reminded him a little of the red, white, and yellow lines painted on the slab of gray stone all around._

_"It's a basketball," Thea said. Seeing his expression, she added, "You looked kinda confused. Wanna play while we hatch daring and possibly suicidal escape plans?"_

_It had been well over five centuries since he'd played any sort of childish sport involving a ball. He turned the carrot-colored sphere over and over in his hands. The texture against his palms had a distant relief twisting inside him; it was softer, warmer than stone, and didn't have the bone-smoothness of the walls of his cell. He tossed the ball back to Thea._

_"I don't know how," he confessed. He could learn—he was clever and quick—but would she want to waste time teaching him when they had more important things to do? Why did it suddenly feel as if nothing were more important than learning to play this game of hers while the sun shone down on them and the breeze brought sweet scents from the outside world? Things Loki hadn't felt in so many days and weeks and months. They should be plotting their escape…but Thea needed the practice, they both knew that, and he wanted more sunlight, more fresh air._

_He wanted…he wanted the world back: rain and wind and the crackle of a fire and the sting of smoke in the air, the spice of evergreens and the babble of a brook gurgling in its little bed, the softness of freshly-laundered bed linens and the humming notes of his mother playing her harp by the fire and…he wanted the world back. No more darkness. No more silence. No more loneliness._

_"Okay, I only have a_ rudimentary knowledge," _she emphasized the phrase with a caricatured scholar's voice, "of the game, but I know that you have to get the ball," she tossed it in the air a couple of times, "into the hoop." She gestured to the red metal hoop attached to the silver pole. "Like this," Thea added, tossing the sphere. It hit the red circle and bounced back toward the ground. "Okay, not like that. That was a failure. Don't do that. I'm no great shakes at this, so no mocking, okay?" She jogged over to the ball and scooped it up. "Let's try that again." After two more shots at the hoop, she managed to send the ball through the net. "Ha!" Thrusting her fists in the air, she gave a little hop. "Booyacashah!"_

_Loki's brows rose. "What did you say?"_

_Thea froze in the act of preparing to hop again. She jerked her arms down and held them against her torso, looking mildly embarrassed. In fact, if Loki hadn't known better, he would have said she was blushing. "I said," she mumbled, "'booyacashah.'"_

_"Beg pardon?"_

_"Boo-yah-kah-shah. Booyacashah. It's like a victory cheer." She suddenly grinned. "You have to say it when you score a point."_

_The corner of Loki's mouth twitched. "Indeed." She nodded earnestly. "Is this a rule of the game?"_

_"It is when you play with me."_

_He wondered if she were mocking him…but there was no malice in her excited expression or in her eyes, lit with the freedom of being outside in the open, away from the horrors of the prison cells. "I have to say…booyacashah?"_

_Thea nodded. "Here, you gotta practice. You gotta sound_ triumphant _when you say it."_

_"Triumphant." The excited girl was absolutely serious; Loki could see it in her face, as plain as a campfire in the dark. "Is that right?"_

_"Mmm-hmmm. Come on, let's hear it. Just yell it out. Come on." When he just looked at her, she sighed in exasperation. "Oh, come on. You're playing around inside my brain, for crying out loud. No one can see or hear you except me. Come on. It'll make you feel more manly. Like, for real. I promise. Totally works for me. Please, Loki? Please?"_

_He couldn't help it; he laughed. "You won't give up, will you?"_

_There were so many other, more important things to be discussing at the moment…yet this girl's enthusiasm, her willingness to totally immerse herself in the freedom of the moment, the freedom of the illusion she'd created, made him want to forget for a time the danger that loomed beyond the walls of his cell. He didn't want to return yet, even in his thoughts, to that festering pit that had been his prison for six months…or to the events that had transpired before he fell from the Bifröst._

_"Nuh-uh," she replied, half-walking and half-bouncing over to him. She actually gave an excited little wiggle as she rocked from the balls of her feet to her heels and then back again. "Come on, I'll say it with you. Just take a breath and yell it out. Go, 'Booyacashah!' Come on. On three—one…two…three. Booyacashah!"_

_And though he felt a bit like an idiot, he said it with her. "Booyacashah."It would draw her closer to him, keep her talking, surely._

_Thea groaned. "Oh, that was terrible. That was prissy. You sound like someone's pulling your appendix out through your nose. Come on, give it some oomph. Some pizzazz."_

_"Pizzazz?" Where did she come up with these things?_

_"Yeah, you know, pizzazz. It's like pizza with two Z's at the end." He stared at her blankly. Her eyes widened and a look of horror spilled over her face. "Holy creampuffs dipped in dark chocolate, have you never had pizza? Right, you're an alien. Okay, forget basketball for today. Food time. Hang on, close your eyes. Wait…you still haven't said it. Well, you said it, but it was more like a zombie groaning than a war cry. C'mon, show me what ya got."_

_Another laugh emerged. How bizarre; it was the third time he'd laughed in the last handful of hours, and all because of this childlike Midgardian who refused to be cowed—at least not cowed for long—by the darkness._

_"All right," he agreed at last, and rolled his eyes when she hopped up and down, beaming like a child. "I will do it one more time."_

_"Okay. On the count of three. One—two—three—booyacashah!"_

_"Booyacashah!"_

_"Yes!" She dropped the ball, letting it bounce away from them, and jumped into the air as if her strange excitement buoyed her up. "Yes, you said it! Oh, my gosh, I'm so proud of you! Whoo! Do it again! Booyacashah!"_

_He was laughing now, though he had no idea why. The girl had to be mad. How else could she enjoy such a silly thing when so much darkness waited for them? But her enthusiasm was bizarrely infectious, and her words filled him with a strange warmth in his belly, so he obliged her, crying, "Booyacashah!"_

_"Booyacashah! Whoo! Yes! And when we kick those Chitauri's butts, then steal one of their gross little space-pod things and zip back home, we will wave at them through the windshield and yell that brilliant, glorious, and utterly high-larious word as we leave them choking on our space dust. Nobody can keep us down! Whoo!"_

_Shoving her hair out of her face, she grinned at him as if they were compatriots in some shared reckless venture involving the stars only knew what sort of mayhem. It was a smile like Thor had given him once, inviting him to share in the half-mad joy of whatever scheme his brother had come up with. Thea's smile slid between Loki's ribs like a knife, but the sheer conspiratorial exuberance of it somehow helped staunch the wound it left behind._

_"One more time," she said, biting her lip lightly in her obvious excitement. "Please. Gotta hear it just one more time."_

_This was getting ridiculous…but he found himself matching her bright grin. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"_

_"You should see me with key-lime pie-flavored ice cream," she replied, sliding her hands in the pockets of her odd blue trousers. "Get your fingers near my limey goodness, I'll shank you with an ice cream spoon. Come on, you say it different from me."_

_"And how is that?"_

_"It sounds all cute when_ I _do it, but when_ you _do it sounds kind of cool. As the kids are saying these days, it's_ epic. _Must be your voice. If I had a deep resonant man-voice, it would probably sound cool when I did it too. I love that word, though. Booyacashah. It's from_ Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

_Now he knew he had to be hearing things. "What?"_

_"I'll explain after we move memories. I mean, I seriously_ have _to introduce you to pizza. You poor, poor man. No pizza ever? What kind of underprivileged planet did you come from? Unless you've had alien pizza. I wonder what alien pizza tastes like. Is it made from real aliens?" She seemed to think about this for a brief moment, then shuddered and mumbled, "Ew. How do I even think of this stuff?"_

_"Are you sure you're a tutor and not a court jester?"_

_The mortal woman perked up. "Why? Am I making you laugh?"_

_Loki chuckled. "Yes." Surprisingly, but…yes, she was._

_Her grin mellowed into a gentle smile and she sighed as if in contentment. "Good," she said softly. "You deserve a good laugh after everything you've been through, I think."_

_A faint frown creased Loki's brow. Was that why she maintained such optimism? Such childlike cheer? For_ his _sake? But why would she do that? And what sort of fear was she masking with that same optimism?_

_Before he could ask, she added, "So, close your eyes and I'll take you inside and we can—"_

_"Can we not stay out here?" The question escaped him before he could help himself. The ice-water of his Frost Giant blood helped keep a blush from burning too obviously in his cheeks, yet humiliation seared him. To beg to remain on the outing like some needy child…but it had been so very long since he'd been outside. This wasn't even truly the outside world, but the sun was so warm, the air so crisp and delicious with its fragrances. He didn't want to lose that yet, even if it was to go to the comfort of whatever place she would take him next._

_A shadow of what might have been sadness passed over Thea's face. Did she want so much to go indoors? But then she said, "Okay, we'll stay outside, but we'll be somewhere better. I know the perfect place. Will you trust me?"_

_Did he have any choice but to trust her? If he wanted to continue to bask in the sun, then no, he didn't. Loki inclined his head. She smiled._

_"Okay. Close your eyes."_

_Against his better judgment—what was she about to do?—he did as she instructed. Something cool and prickling slid over him, across his face and down his chest, slipping along his spine and down his arms, spilling around the length of his legs and over his feet. Pins and needles pricked his skin, though nowhere near as sharply as before._

_Then Thea whispered, "Open your eyes."_

_He did, and felt his jaw go slack as he stared up, up, up…at the cliffs that speared the sky above the beach in Asgard. The ocean waves lapped at the golden sands. Hermit crabs, the first signs of life he'd actually seen in six months other than Thea, scuttled across the sand in their tiny shells. Gulls cried overhead. The sun was low, but not quite setting, over in the west. Loki kept glancing between the cliffs towering over him and the surf singing behind him before he turned his back on the craggy rocks and took several unsteady steps toward the sea._

_Suddenly his knees gave way and he sank to the sand. A tremor shook him as grief, sharp as a blade of ice, twisted in his guts. He bowed his head another shudder ripped through him. His fingers dug deep into the wet sand, clutching home earth. Some feral sound escaped him despite how he clamped his lips together._

_Small, slender hands touched his shoulders. He wanted to twitch away from the intrusion at the same time that his body, left untouched by tender hands for so long, leaned into the caress. A warm weight settled against him and he realized Thea pressed close, trying to peer into his face and decide whether she'd made a mistake or not._

_After a long moment, he lifted his head and looked at her. He opened his mouth. Words sat on the tip of his tongue, heavy as stones and just as bruising. She shrank back a little at whatever she saw on his face._

_"Thank you," Loki whispered before turning his face away. "Thank you."_

_Several moments passed in silence, then Thea asked, "This is where you live, right? You said you couldn't get there, so I thought I'd bring it to you." She hesitated. "Bad idea?" He said nothing. He didn't know what to say. She muttered something under her breath, then growled at herself, "Stupid. Stupid, Thea. Great job. Wonderful. I'm such an idiot." To him, she added, "Loki, I'm sorry. I thought this would make you feel a bit better, I didn't mean to upset you—"_

_"I'm in exile," he gasped, cutting off her apology. "I can never go home. I…I thought never to see it again."_

_Why was he telling her this? Why did she need to know? She didn't. Why was he telling her anything? Why didn't he rebuke her for what she'd done, snatching one of his memories without permission? Yet he saw how much she'd wanted to please him with this…gift. That was what she'd intended it to be—a gift. And it truly was…but a painful one._

_"I'm sorry," she said again. The compassion in her voice surprised him. Why did she even care? Because he was trapped in the dark of the Chitauri dungeons with her?_

_Did it matter why, so long as she_ was _kind to him? It had been so long since he'd known real kindness._

_"Don't be," he whispered. "It was well meant."_

_Another hesitation, then Thea asked, "Do you want to go somewhere else? Anywhere you've been or I've been—or anywhere someone's been whose memories I have—I can take us there. Do you want to leave?"_

_It felt as if he were strangling slowly on the emotion and the words in his throat, but somehow Loki managed to shake his head. "I want to stay."_

_"Okay," she said. "No problem. Anything you want to show me?"_

_And suddenly there was. Anything, so long as he didn't have to remember why he would never see Asgard again—not just because of the Chitauri, but because of what he'd done, what Sif and the others had done, what Thor and his father thought of him. What his mother probably thought, now, too. And Balder and Hermod…what did they think? His little brothers…and Víðarr, so newly come home, and of course young Bellalyse. Loki had tried to spare a few moments to speak kindly to the girl, knowing a simple herdsman's daughter would find the palace overwhelming, to say the least. She'd responded to his overtures with shy kindness; she hadn't known him as Loki Tricksmith and Loki Silvertongue. He was just Loki to her, her new brother. It had been so refreshing…what did Bellalyse think of him?_

_He was thinking of his family again, he realized. He needed to stop that. Stop it now. They had no place in his life anymore. Loki shoved thoughts of his parents, his brothers, his new sister, and his friends from his mind because even the echo of memories of them raked his heart like talons. Why had he let go of Gungnir's haft? Why had he let himself fall into the abyss?_

_Because of Odin's disappointment and condemnation. Because he'd done what he could—with very little time to plan—for Asgard, to protect it, and his father had unequivocally rejected his attempts—_

_"Loki?"_

_He jerked himself from the circling, biting thoughts and focused on the girl beside him. He had something to show her, he reminded himself. Something that would help him to forget his family. Something that would perhaps test the limits of her gift, because surely it would be difficult to recreate it completely._

_"Yes, forgive me. Come with me."_

_The disguised Frost Giant led the mortal across the beach, stopping to show her the hermit crabs in their pearlescent, rainbow-hued shells or a seagull's nest atop jutting boulders. He pointed these things out because they were small details that Thea had somehow provided for the illusion. Not only that, but the sand was thick and malleable as wet sand was in the real world; the beach smelled of seaweed and brine, wet stone and sun-baked sand drying in the salt air. He could_ not _tell the difference. If he hadn't_ known _this was an illusion, he never would have suspected it._

_They reached the large stone jetty he'd often gone to when he'd needed a place to think quietly. Loki climbed the rock easily, but Thea had a bit more difficulty. When her foot in its inadequate Midgardian "tennis shoe" slipped over the slick surface, Loki quickly reached over and grasped her arm to steady her until she regained her footing. Her arm was slim and fragile in his grip. Her skin was warm beneath the thin material._

_When they finally reached the top, Thea looked out at the surging sea and gasped. Loki followed her gaze. Gold and crimson from the setting sun blazed across the water, dying the blues and greens and grays to splashes of fire. As they watched, a streak of emerald light zipped from the heavens toward the surface of the sea. Thea gasped even louder, clapping her hands at the sight._

_She'd recreated this day so long ago perfectly, right down to the spark of jade like a falling star. Very impressive. And this place, his private place, had no memories of his family attached to it._

_"So," Thea said, leaning back on her hands. Loki mimicked her posture. The stone was pleasantly warm beneath his palms. "Pizza?"_

_A wan smile touched his mouth. How did this girl's simple mortal charms make him forget the pain of losing Asgard? No, not forget…but it helped ease the pain a little. How? He didn't ask her. He doubted she knew. Perhaps it was merely that they had only each other against the darkness of the Chitauri. Whatever it was, Loki nodded. "Pizza." Then he had a thought. "What_ is _pizza?"_

_Thea looked pained. "I'm feeling a terrible and agonizing pain somewhere in my midsection for the cruel deprivation you've suffered," she said flatly. "It's food. Good food. Great food. So bad for you, but so very delicious. It's like a Twinkie, but with more pizza-ness."_

_He chewed that over for a moment. "That didn't make sense," he finally said._

_"Just go with it," she said with a smile. "Pretend it's a rollercoaster and you're along for the ride."_

_"What is a rollercoaster?"_

_"Oh, for the love of chocolate lasagna," she cried. "What kind of childhood did you have? You know what, don't answer that," she added before the question had the chance to do more than slice him once, quickly, across the heart. "At some point, I'll take you to my mental Disneyland. I've only been there one time, but my mom made sure I went on every ride at least once so I could store the experience up in here." One slender finger tapped her temple. "I've done pretty much everything at least once. Now hang on."_

_Thea closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and smiled beatifically. Her nostrils flared. She made a sound halfway between longing and pain, then grinned. Slender brown eyebrows lifted toward her hairline._

_"Ta…da!"_

_In front of Loki appeared a plate that seemed to be made of stiffened waxed paper. On it sat a triangle of what seemed to be bread covered in a red sauce, melted white cheese, and circles of meat. More cheese oozed out of the base of the triangle, which was made of thicker bread covered in what might have been powdered garlic. White powder covered the triangle._

_"Take a bite of that," Thea instructed. "Careful, it's hot. Scalding the roof of your mouth on super hot pizza is like, major suckage. And start at the pointy end. Theo starts at the crust and it drives me crazy. It's not natural." She lifted a similar triangle with both hands and brought it toward her mouth. Just as the point touched her lips, she jerked back and glanced at Loki, who hadn't moved. "You'll like it, trust me. But I just realized—this won't taste the way pizza would actually taste to you."_

_He frowned. "How do you mean?"_

_"You'll taste what I normally taste—which is good stuff, don't get me wrong, but my taste buds are different from yours. So if you ever have pizza in real life, it won't taste like this. Just warning you. And it won't fill you up. I mean, you'll feel full, but you won't get any nutrition from this. It's not real. Tastes good, though."_

_Then she took a bite and moaned as if she'd…his mind skittered away from the thought. He'd noticed over his long life that women sometimes made sounds like_ that_when in other situations, though only some of the females of his acquaintance did it by accident. He suspected Thea didn't realize quite how she sounded. But since she seemed to be enjoying herself, he decided it wouldn't hurt to try the odd Midgardian food._

_He meant to take a single bite, but once the food—real food, not the slop the Chitauri fed him—crossed his lips, Loki's control snapped. It seemed like one minute he held a triangle of pizza and the next, it had vanished down his gullet. He stared at his empty plate for a moment before glancing at Thea to gauge her reaction._

_She was laughing happily. "Oh my gosh, you're such a guy. My brothers eat like that all the time. So, you like it? Or were you so busy inhaling it that you didn't actually taste anything?" Her piece, Loki noticed, was only half-gone. "It's like a party in your mouth and everyone's invited, huh? Want another piece?"_

_A party in his mouth? Midgardians used such odd phrases. He cleared his throat. "Please." Three more appeared on his plate and he set to with a will, only one thought echoing in his mind: food_. Real _food._

_When he'd gorged himself on the food—which oddly didn't make him sick, when stuffing himself after so long being starved should have made him ill—he leaned back again and stared out at the sunset, which seemed to have halted at the cusp of its most perfect moment. Had Thea done that, as well? Was she the supreme puppeteer of this world?_

_"So do you think we'll be able to sneak out using my powers and steal a ship and fly back to Earth?" Thea asked softly, gently breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them while they ate. "Or are we kind of screwed?"_

_"Screwed?"_

_The girl shifted to lie on her belly on the jetty, folding her arms to pillow her head. Her chestnut hair fell over her like a thin blanket. "Yeah, you know. Screwed. Out of luck. In trouble."_

_Loki hesitated. He didn't want to tell her to abandon hope, but the odds of being able to make an escape as they were hoping were so slim…If he gave her their true chances, would she panic as she had before? It had been a momentary lapse in her usual cheerful demeanor, but it had been enough to make Loki worry. How much fear was the girl actually hiding?_

_"I don't know," he finally admitted, taking a gamble. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She closed her eyes and didn't speak for several minutes. Only the crash and sigh of the ocean and the cries of the gulls filled the air._

_"What are the odds they'll kill us if we fail?" Thea asked at last._

_He sighed. "I do not know that, either. All I_ do _know is that if we are captured again, they will separate us. We'll both be trapped in the darkness again, but this time we will be completely alone."_

_Thea bit her lip. "Should we risk it?"_

_Every fiber of his being leapt at the thought. To escape the Chitauri once and for all, to go…anywhere, anywhere at all…it was almost too much to hope for. How could he dare hope after all this time? So much was now at stake…and he didn't think he could bear to come so close, only to fail, and lose his only companion in the process. He couldn't bear the darkness alone again. It would burn the very heart out of him._

_But it was cowardice to fear so…and it was not his decision alone. "What do you wish to do?"_

_"Honestly…since I can use my powers, we're not just stuck in some box in the ground. We can go places. Escape that way. And I know Phil's coming for me. So is the professor. They'll come, or their people will come, and when they do, we'll get out of here. My art teacher, for instance. Nobody can keep him out. He'll be here. And Phil will find me. I know he will. I think we can hold out until then if we stick together, but by ourselves…I think a snowball in Hades has a better chance than we do, to be honest. I mean," she added when Loki didn't reply, "if you're going to make a break for it, I'll go with you. I'll help you. But I think our odds go way down if we do that."_

_He frowned. "Then why go with me?"_

_One slender brow rose and she rolled onto her back, thrusting her feet into the air. She'd kicked off her tennis shoes after getting to the top of the jetty; now she seemed to find her toes fascinating for some reason._

_"Well, how else are you supposed to get out if I don't help?" She pointed at him. "Snowball." Then she spread her arms, gesturing to the beach around them. "Beyond this idyllic sand pit full of crabs lies Hades. I don't like your odds, so no way am I letting you go it alone. Don't you know? Two snowballs will melt slower."_

_Loki shook his head, utterly baffled. "Why would you do that? Why help me?"_

_She shrugged. "Because I like you, duh."_

_"You don't even know me," the prince replied, further bewildered. "How could you possibly like me when…" When his own friends, comrades held dear for so long, despised and betrayed him in favor of his brother? But he didn't say that._

_Thea sat up abruptly and scooted closer to him, until her face was merely an inch away from his own. He could see every individual lash like a fringe of dark lace around her silver-blue eyes; see the scattering of freckles that had been obscured by the dirt on her face in the real world. Loki blinked and raised an eyebrow as she leaned in a little closer. What in the name of Mjölnir was she doing?_

_"Loki," she said softly._

_"Yes?" His voice automatically lowered to a whisper._

_"You're basically chillaxing inside my brain," Thea said in her normal voice. She leaned back, releasing him from the ridiculous staring contest. "If I didn't like you, do you think I'd let you party around in here? I like you. We're friends…aren't we?"_

_Friends? "We barely know each other."_

_"Pfft. And? Here, we'll fix that. My name is Althea Sigyn Valerian. Don't ask about the Sigyn thing. My mom's obsessed with…anyway, not important. I'm twenty-four. My mom's name is Sophie, she plays the cello, and currently lives in Portland, Maine, where she moved after all of us mutated kids graduated high school. My brothers' names, youngest to oldest, are: Jason, Günter, Emmet, Theo, and Austin. I have two sisters, Cleo and Joie. My favorite color is black—it is_ so _a color—and green. Well, fancy that?"_

_She grinned at him and he suddenly found it a little difficult to meet her gaze without the faintest heat flushing his cheeks._

_"I have over six thousand books memorized, thanks to my powers; I'm a huge fan of Disney; I can't cook but I can bake anything as long I have a recipe to work with; I love chocolate lasagna, which is like heaven in your mouth and I will totally make for you at some point; and I love hugging people. When we get to that point in our relationship, please let me know. There. Me in a nutshell._

_"Oh, and I detest people who double-cuff their blue jeans or wear blue jeans with a tucked-in shirt and a belt. It's tacky; says so in_ The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. _So there." She gestured to him. "Your turn."_

_"What…should I say?"_

_"What's your favorite color?"_

_"Blu…white."_

_"Blue and white," she said, and he cursed inwardly. He hadn't meant to say blue. Blue would now forever remind him of the stigma of his true parentage. "I like that combination," Thea added. "Red's nice, too. Do you like cats?"_

_He blinked. "Yes…"_

_"If you could be an animal, what would it be?"_

_"I…a merlin. Or maybe a horse."_

_"Oh, cool! See, we're bonding. I would love to be a squirrel, except then I'd get chased by dogs. My mom's dog, Poncho, is kind of an idiot. He runs into trees all the time chasing squirrels. Um, okay, lemme think…do you like pudding?"_

_Loki's brows furrowed. "What is pudding?"_

_A small porcelain bowl filled with a creamy, dark substance appeared in Thea's hands. She thrust in a spoon that seemed to materialize from nowhere and shoved the whole thing at him._

_"Here, eat that, it's good for you. Puts hair on your chest. Do you_ have _hair on your chest?"_

_He paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Why do you want to know?"_

_She shrugged. "It just popped into my head. What's your favorite song?"_

_"I don't have one."_

_"Huh. Weird. Mine's 'Chopping Broccoli,' which is the most ridiculous song_ ever. _Hence why I like it. And I love 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons. My mom is amazing, she can play it on her cello, she—is—so—awesome! Anyway, what's your favorite drink?"_

_"Ale. Or white wine."_

_"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "Gross. I adore Pepsi, which you've probably never tried either. We will fix this, don't worry. But not now. Eat your pudding."_

_Somehow a grin was curving his treacherous lips even as he asked sternly, "And how am I supposed to do that when you are forcing me to answer your questions?"_

_"Talk with your mouth full," she replied airily. "Do you like waffles?"_

_"I do not know what a waffle is."_

_She dropped her face into her hands. "I'm going to die alone in a ditch of muddy misery with no jelly beans to succor me—yes, I said jelly beans, don't tell me you don't know what those are or I will have a heart attack and die—and thus I will have failed in my purpose in life, which is," she yanked her head up, "to introduce you to decent food. No pizza, no pudding—stick that spoon in your mouth—no waffles…what did they feed you on, stale bread crusts and broccoli? I suppose you've never had a slushee, either."_

_Loki shook his head and obliged her by putting a spoonful of pudding in his mouth. The rich taste of chocolate flooded over his tongue. His eyes widened. Thea grinned._

_"See? I'm a genius. I know everything—including that pudding gives you superhuman strength, like Popeye and spinach. Okay, it doesn't really, but it's good, right?" She gave a little bounce when he nodded. "Wait until I've had you in my clutches for a while. I can totally show you a good time." She frowned. "That…came out dirty. So, so very dirty. Why? Crap. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I_ can _show you a good time, but not a 'sexy fun-time' good time, you know? I mean, not that you're not hot and stuff, but I'm not the kind of girl who…I mean, I just…why am I still talking? I'm shutting up now."_

_"I'm actually quite cool," Loki reassured her._

_Peeking up at him through her thick lashes, Thea said, "I wasn't referring to temperature. On Earth, at least in America, saying someone's hot means they're attractive. You know, handsome."_

_"Then why did you refer to me that way?"_

_She stared at him blankly for a minute, then replied, "Seriously? What_ planet _are you from? Is everyone ugly on your planet? Like, is it the reverse of Earth? Are ugly people hot on your world and hot people considered ugly or something? Because on Earth, your face would be splashed all over the internet. People would make weird memes and posters about you and quote everything you say and make up random facts about you like…um…that you can silence a crowd just by giving them a smoldering look or something. I don't know, but on Earth, girls would be all over you. Drooling, imagining you saying weird pickup lines, whatever. It happens to all the hot men on Earth. And if I'm talking too much, let me know and I'll can it."_

_It was best, he decided, to focus on the essential part of her statement (and he found himself rather enjoying her quaint chatter, somehow). "So you think me handsome?"_

_Perhaps it was cruel of him to bait her, but when he asked, her cheeks flushed pink. How sweet. She was so outspoken. Asgardian women didn't speak like this to men they didn't know. Well, prostitutes sometimes did, but Thea's childlike sweetness wiped away any such shadows from her demeanor._

_Thea shook her head in amusement. "Are you fishing for compliments? Yes, you're handsome. Dude, the hair. It's like…if I were ten years younger I'd probably be all, 'Can I touch your hair?' Since you're not all grungy in our little La-La Land. My students do that with guys they like all the time, it's so funny. I just look at them and wonder, 'Do you want a boyfriend or a poodle?' And like I said, beautiful eyes."_

_"Thank you."_

_"No problem," she said. For a while after, as if that hadn't been one of the strangest conversations Loki had ever had, Thea stared out at the sea, letting the wind gently blow her hair back from her face. She sighed happily. "I love the ocean. I've been over it, under it. I love it. It's beautiful."_

_Loki nodded. "It is. How long can we stay here?" He added, voicing the question he'd been dreading the entire time._

_"Until I get too tired to maintain the illusion," she replied. "So we've got a few more hours, I think. Do you want to play Twenty Questions again? Because your answers are awesome."_

_He shrugged, as if it hardly mattered—yet he realized that he found release in speaking to her just as much as he did in hearing her speak to him. "If you like."_

_"Summer or winter?"_

_"Summer."_

_"Autumn or spring?"_

_"Spring."_

_"I love spring, too," she said. "Planting things, watching them grow. I love flowers. And in the spring there's this mist you get early in the morning around the school, like a billion tiny diamonds floating above the ground in this silver cloud. But I like fall, too. The trees with their leaves and the scent of pumpkins and apples. And then there's Halloween. I hope I don't miss it this year."_

_Loki rearranged his long limbs on the jetty to make himself more comfortable. Over the centuries, he'd worn slight depressions in the stone to fit his body. "What is Halloween?"_

_Thea laughed—a joyous, infectious sound that brought an involuntary smile to Loki's lips. "Oh, man. When we get to Earth, whenever that is, remind me to illusion us so we look like little kids and we can go trick-or-treating."_

"Trick-_or-treating," Loki murmured musingly. He could feel the wish for a little mischief sparking in his blood. "That sounds like just the thing for me. Now tell me about these…mutant turtles."_

_And Thea laughed again, bright as a silver bell._

.

Thor watched Loki as his brother settled onto his cot, weary jade eyes fixed on the ceiling. There was a heaviness hanging over the crown prince in the wake of this latest installment of the story. He sighed, a sound saturated with regret.

"She helped you forget the darkness."

Loki closed his eyes. "When I needed lightness and cheer, she provided it. When I needed a court jester, someone to chase the shadows away, she obliged…and when I needed more, she was always there."

And what _was_ more? Thor wondered. Had Loki turned to Thea for more than consolation in the dark? How, he wondered, could they have done anything of that sort when locked in two different cells? Unless it had been after…when Loki had turned to the Chitauri, unable to bear their tortures any longer. Had he sought solace and nepenthe in Thea after that, taking her as a concubine to ease his loneliness, his shame?

The thought of his little brother lying with the wife of his fallen friend left a sour taste in Thor's mouth. And how could Thea have allowed it? Had she no loyalty to her husband? The thoughts twisted in the Asgardian's head, snarling like tangles of wire, because something didn't feel right about them…but he couldn't pinpoint what that was.

"I think part of her gift was empathy," Loki continued. "She always seemed to know what I needed. And she always…I don't know. It seemed as if I fulfilled some _need_ of hers. As if there was something about me that she'd been looking for. That is what she told me, anyway. It was why she was always so excited to speak to me—I made her happy." He paused, seemed to weigh the risks of revealing his next words, but finally Loki added, "I had never made anyone happy before."

"That isn't true, Brother," Thor protested. "You have made _me_ happy before. You've made Mother and Father happy. Balder and Hermod, Víðarr. You have made us all happy in the past. Why do you believe us to have been dissatisfied before…"

"Before I went mad and tried to usurp the throne?" Loki finished bitterly for him. "You and everyone else had made it very clear over the centuries that I would never be more than second-best, if that." Then he sighed, and the bitterness seemed to drain away. The snarled brow smoothed out and the anger faded. "I'm sorry, Thor. That isn't what I meant, anyway. Thea seemed…I know not how to explain. There was a joy in her whenever we spoke, a peace that seemed to settle over her. As if she'd been searching long and hard for something, and found it at last, she always said. I gave her peace."

Rising to his feet, the crown prince went to the glass. It was late in the night now, and both he and Loki needed sleep eventually. "She gave _you_ peace, didn't she, Brother? She made you happy."

"Yes."

Thor hesitated, then murmured, "Loki…if I had known of her…I would have helped you try to save her. I swear to you, Brother. Her _and_ Sophie." Loki simply rolled over, turning his back to Thor. The Asgardian laid his palm against the glass. "How long did it take you to realize what had happened? That you were in love with her?"

"Not long." The words were muffled by the wall. "I spent all day, each day, in her company. We whiled away the time in her illusions to keep from going mad in the darkness. I took her all over Asgard; everywhere save the Bifröst Gate and the palace. She took me all over her world, showed me the places she'd seen either herself or through the eyes of others. Sometimes she would read to me from her mental store of books and poetry. I know when I fell in love. One day she…"

But Loki trailed off, never finishing. Thor, uncertain if he ought to leave, said, "You haven't told me how the Chitauri discovered they could use her and Sophie against you." Or where Sophie came from, but Thor didn't voice that point. By now he was fairly certain—Sophie was the daughter of Thea and Coulson. How that fit into everything else, he didn't know, but he would find out. For now…"How did the Chitauri discover your weakness, Loki?"

Silence for several tense heartbeats, then Loki whispered in a voice tight with agony, "They discovered it…because I told them of it."

Thor jolted. "What? How could you do that?"

"I had no choice."

"What do you mean, you had no choice?" He demanded, wide-eyed. "You sold the woman you claim to love and the child you claim to care for to the Chitauri and for what? To purchase your own freedom?"

Loki bolted upright, hatred and mad fury suffusing his face. "How dare you? Claim? _Claim?_ I loved them!" He was on his feet, striding forward, features twisted into a caricature by an insane tangle of grief and rage. "_I loved them!_ Both of them! More than a wretch like you could _ever_ love _anyone!_ But I had no choice! Not if Sophie was to survive! She would have died if I hadn't…" A long painful shudder racked his body and he leaned hard against the glass as if for support. "I had to…for her sake."

"And I suppose you killed Coulson for her sake as well?" Thor snapped, wrestling with his temper and losing—badly.

Savage electric blue spread through Loki's eyes. Thor had to fight not to step back from the morphing gaze. What was going on? Had his brother's eyes flickered like this on Midgard? Thor couldn't remember. Had he even bothered to look?

"Yes," Loki snarled. "Yes, actually, I _did_. I stabbed your comrade for Sophie's sake. For Thea's sake. I did it to save them. My last-ditch effort in case I was too weak to fight someone dear to me for what I held even dearer."

A lump came into Thor's throat. _Someone dear to me…_Loki couldn't be talking about him? He _couldn't_ be…

"But as always," the half-mad prince continued, "I was betrayed by the ones I thought I could trust to do what was necessary, for my lady and…and the child, if not for me."

Thor shook his head. "You were a fool to trust the Chitauri with something you deemed so precious, Brother. And I could not—"

"I wasn't referring to the Chitauri or to you. I was talking about _Coulson_."

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_Author's Note__: dun-dun-DUN! Yeah, I said that. And now I hear my husband saying in my head, "You don't need to say 'dun-dun-DUN!' It's implied." Well, not strongly enough to suit me, lol._

_So my beta and I rewatched_ Thor, _and I rewatched a big chunk of_ The Avengers (_then I had to give it to my beta to watch) but it helped me with a lot of stuff in this fic. So hopefully we'll see some good stuff in the coming chapters._

_In the meantime, let me know what you guys think. What of Loki's story is true or not true? What is Loki getting at with all these veiled hints and whatnot? Will Thor ever learn? Is LA using her dramatic movie-announcer-guy voice? Yes, she is. Lol._

_Remember, everyone,__reviews equal pants__, and pants equal love. Love your pals, love yourself. Love me, too. And long live Ann Brashares!_


	12. Do You Want Me to Look?

_Author's Note__: so here I am with the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it. Welcome new readers, hello again returning readers. I've got some fun and some…not-fun in store for you all. Reviews are great! Let me know what you think, yeah?_

_Oh, the sonnet quoted in this chapter is "Sonnet X" by William Shakespeare. I thought it fit Loki pretty well. And the quotes from "mortal verse" Loki has used thus far are from__ Romeo & Juliet. _

_And good news! There is a__link__on my profile (near the very tippy-top) to my__"Darkness There, and Nothing…" Pinterest Board!__Seriously, if you guys check that out,__you'll find art__I've made and quotes and stuff for all the different chapters (including chapters not posted yet, ahem). So go check it out! Comment, let me know what you think. :o)_

_Brief Note on Continuity__: this fic will probably be done before_ Thor 2 _comes out. This means there will probably be some inconsistencies. Me sorry__. :o( __And there may be a few inconsistencies with the movie-verse of_ X-Men _as it ties in here because I haven't seen_ First Class. _After what my beta told me, I don't think I want to. So…yeah. Just an fyi. Enjoy the chap! Remember, reviews are love!_

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Chapter Eleven  
Do You Want Me to Look?

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"Explain yourself," Thor growled, pressing the sides of his white-knuckled fists against the enchanted window. "You cannot spout off your cryptic nonsense, say things like that about my fallen comrade, impugn his honor, and expect to get away with such slander."

Loki's knife-thin black brow rose in mocking inquiry. "Slander, is it? That is gratitude for you; you demand the truth, I give it to you against my will, and you rail at me for doing so." Despite the light tone, there was an edge to Loki's words that helped Thor curb the sharp retort sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he asked in a carefully neutral voice, "Are you saying that you and Coulson were working together?"

"Is _that_ what I'm saying?"

When the crown prince said nothing, refusing to be baited, Loki went back to his cot. Closing his eyes, he lay down; the canvas rustled and the frame creaked a little beneath Loki's slight weight. The long fingers laced together and came to rest on Loki's stomach. Something black as a tendril of ink peeked out from beneath Loki's sleeve, but Thor couldn't see what it was.

"It is late, Thor. Go to bed."

"And are _you_ going to bed?" Thor asked. "Or will the dark hours of this night fill up with the screams of the woman you loved?"

Faint lines creased the spot between Loki's brows. There was the smallest twitch of his black lashes, then his expression smoothed out, becoming a bored mask. He didn't respond, merely turned his back to Thor once more and by all appearances fell asleep. The Asgardian waited a few more minutes, to see if his brother could be coaxed into sharing anything else…but nothing more came, so Thor left at last.

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Late that night, the moon shone through the windows of the banquet hall to find the crown prince of Asgard sipping contemplatively from a mug of ale and biting off the occasional chunk from a hunk of bread. Somehow it didn't surprise him when a shadow detached itself from the wall and approached.

"What do you want, Tyr?" Thor hadn't forgotten how his older brother had taunted Loki, threatening to use Thea as a whore just to upset their foster brother.

Tyr sighed and slumped onto the bench beside Thor. Without asking, he took a swig from Thor's mug. A muscle flexed in Thor's jaw and his brows drew sharply together. Tyr muffled a belch. "Still sore at me, little brother?"

Voice nearly a growl, Thor said, "You had no right to speak to Loki that way, Tyr."

"Why do you care, Thor?" Tyr grumbled, snatching up Thor's bread and tearing off a piece with his teeth. Chewing and swallowing, the elder prince added, "He isn't even our brother. He is no kin to us."

"We were raised together," he rumbled like an irate bear, bidding his bread a silent goodbye. His fingers drummed on the table as he eyed his elder brother. "We played together, fought together—all of us: you, me, Loki, Víðarr, Hermod and Balder. We have been brothers in all things. Discovering that Loki is a foundling changes none of that. It should not erase the centuries of love and friendship we have known, all of us together."

Tyr shook his head. "I'm starting to wonder if Balder's the one who'll end up on the throne."

Golden brows drew together as Thor stared at his brother. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I've been passed over, Loki is a traitor, you're an idiot, and Víðarr doesn't want to rule," Tyr murmured, bitter as wormwood. Thor clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. His fingers tangled into a fist that he hid beneath the shadows of the table. "One must hope nothing happens to either of the twins, or Father will be out of viable heirs." Until recently, everyone had thought Loki and Thor to be twins; nevertheless, they had always been called Thor and Loki. "The Twins" had always been Balder and Hermod.

Thor rose to his feet. He was done with his late meal and his feckless brother. He wanted his bed. "My love for my twin doesn't make me a fool, Tyr. Perhaps it is your inability to see the value in our wayward brother that makes you the fool."

"He's not your twin, Thor. He's not your brother. Everyone else has accepted it—why can't you?"

Turning away, he tossed back at his older brother, "Mother hasn't given up yet."

"That's different; that's Mother. You've no excuse for such foolishness. Loki tried to wrest control of the kingdom from Father, tried to kill you and Sif and the Three—people the _both_ of you had always considered friends—and then invaded Midgard in an attempt to conquer its people. There's nothing left of the man we thought we knew, Thor." The grief twisting in Tyr's voice had Thor turning back to his brother. Tyr gazed into his commandeered mug of ale, melancholy written across his features. "Our little brother is gone. Why pour salt in the wounds? What good does it do?"

He opened his mouth to tell Tyr that all hope wasn't lost, that Loki could still come back to them…but then he thought of why Loki was even telling him the story of Thea to begin with: to convince Thor to help him seek his vengeance. And after Thanos was dead, if the fostered prince survived, he would want Thor's blood. He hadn't wanted it before, not truly. He thirsted for it now.

So Thor merely sighed and left the empty banquet hall, leaving his eldest brother to mourn someone he'd loved dearly once.

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And so it continued, Thor visiting his younger brother each day to receive a new piece of the story. Sometimes, as before, Loki would refuse to speak. Knowing what he knew now of the younger prince's tortured, sleepless nights, Thor didn't let his temper slip its leash. He would merely coax and cajole. Sometimes he was even rewarded with a few new words.

"Where would you go on Midgard?" Thor asked in the middle of the sixth week of this new regime. Loki sat at the table, staring at a blank sheet of paper with a furrowed brow. His eyes were a distant, pale jade. His fingers drummed softly on the tabletop.

"Anywhere we wished," Loki murmured. "Hiking through pine forests in the mountains, swimming in the warm salt of the ocean. Did you know Midgardians have a sport called 'hang-gliding?' It is almost like flying. And of course we skated and went skiing. Even cliff-diving, a Midgardian form of entertainment Thea taught me. We did that often enough; it was good to feel the wind against my face…"

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_"It'll be fun," Thea cried, pulling Loki toward the sheer edge of the bluff. The ocean crashed against the side of the cliffs, roaring with wind and surf, far below. "Haven't you ever jumped off a cliff before?"_

_Loki laughed at the sheer exhilaration of the wind against his face, bringing with it a thousand scents of brine, salt wind, misting rain, sun-baked sand. The gulls shrieked overhead and he was reminded of home. Somehow, it didn't hurt quite so much as it had the first time he'd come to Asgard._

_"No," he replied. "No, I haven't."_

_"Don't worry, I've done it lots of times," Thea said. "We'll have a blast. And since it's not real, there's no way we'll get hurt. Great, huh?" She clasped his hand and grinned. The wind whipped strands of hair loose from her braid. Her cheeks were pink with color and her eyes sparkled. "Here, we'll jump together, okay?"_

_He glanced down at himself, in his black linen shirt and canvas trews. The rocks were sharp and small against his bare feet, but his calluses could deal with the little stones easily. His hair ruffled on the wind. A few ebony strands mingled with wisps of Thea's hair. Glancing at her, he thought that her cropped black pants and red shirt were perfect for what they were about to do. Light and thin, they wouldn't drag her down in the water._

_"On three, I suppose?" Loki asked, matching her grin. This was so far beyond the horrors of their respective cages. He wanted to thank her for bringing him to this place, to his home. Wanted to thank her for giving him this impossible experience…but she knew he was grateful. She could see it in his face, as he could see the knowledge of his gratitude in hers._

_Thea nodded. "On three. One—two—three! Booyacashah!"_

_"Booyacashah!"_

_Two steps for him, three and a half steps for her, and they'd leapt past the edge of the cliff and were falling fast and free and wild towards the ocean. Loki could hear Thea's half-terrified, half-exultant scream. His own adrenaline-fueled cry was snatched from his mouth by the wind._

_They hit the bracingly cold water, jackknifing cleanly through it as the dark waves closed overhead. Still clasping hands—he didn't think he_ could _let go, not when their hearts must be pounding in unison from the plunge—they kicked their way to the surface._

_Thea's head broke the surface of the water with a whooping cry of triumph. Loki came up laughing. Oh, it was good. It was_ good _to be here, out amidst the waves, the salt-sea plastering his hair to his skull and filling his nose with the sting of the ocean. His clothes hung heavy from his body and water streamed down his face as he tread water. He turned to Thea in time for her to throw her arms around his neck. His strong, steady kicking faltered for a moment. He stared at her, stunned. She pulled back immediately, smiling a bit sheepishly._

_"Sorry. That was just so great though, wasn't it? Let's do it again!"_

_Chuckling, Loki nodded. "Again, then. Shall I race you to the shore?"_

_"Psht. You know I'll win."_

_"Well aren't we confident? Come on, then." And of course, the prince of Asgard won._

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_"'_…Should hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?_'" Thea read aloud from a large book bound in green leather, its pages gilt with silver. She lay on her stomach on the grass, slowly kicking her feet in the air behind her head, while Loki lay on the grass at an angle to her, listening. The sun shone through the leafy boughs overhead. Loki closed his eyes and smelled honeysuckle._

_She was reading a Midgardian poem called a sonnet, by one of their greatest poets—a man called Shakespeare. Since even the Midgardians remembered him more than four centuries after his death, Loki was mildly impressed. And the way Thea read…it reminded him in a way of Frigga, when she'd told her sons bedtime stories centuries past. But it was different somehow, though Loki couldn't have explained that difference, even to himself._

_"_'Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,  
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:  
Make thee another self, for love of me,  
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.'_"_

_There came the rustle of grass and cloth as Thea laid her head upon the pages of the book; Loki couldn't see her, but he'd watched her do that enough to know. She sighed in contentment. Here, in these illusions, the two of them felt neither pain nor hunger nor thirst. It was almost as if they weren't prisoners at all._

_Almost._

_"Another," Loki requested softly. "Please."_

_Thea laughed. "Okay, I got one. I know it by heart. You'll probably laugh, since it makes no sense. It's not Shakespeare," she added, and he could hear the grin in her voice. "It's called 'Jabberwocky.'"_

_Loki peeled open one eye. "Is that one of your 'heavenly' desserts you're always going on about? Like…what was it? Caramel lasigni?"_

_She laughed. "You mean chocolate lasagna? No, this isn't about chocolate lasagna. Even Lewis Carroll wasn't that cool. Only_ my _brain overflows with such genius. It's like…like my brain is filled with radioactive amazingness. It marches through my veins like rabbits in waistcoats. I'm sure Carroll is crying out of pure jealousy in his afterlife. Oh, well. Here we go._

_"_'T'was brillig, and the slithey toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.  
All mimsy were the borogroves,  
And the momerathes outgrabe_.'"_

_"You are making this up," Loki protested, lifting his head from his folded arms._

_Thea shook her head, still smiling. "I swear, I'm not. It's a mock-epic. It's not supposed to make sense. Here, lemme finish."_

_He let her, and when it was done, he had to admit she was absolutely right—it didn't make sense. So why, Loki wondered as she went on to another poem, did the silly thing make him smile so much?_

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"Did you ever try that Midgardian drink she liked?" Thor asked two weeks later. "Pepsi, wasn't it?"

A smile curved Loki's mouth and he shuddered. "Ugh, it was revolting. So sweet it made your teeth curl. I couldn't understand how she could drink it the way she did…but it left a pleasant aftertaste when I would—" Suddenly Loki's eyes widened and he cut off his words, turning quickly away to stare into the fire. His hand shook when he curled it into a fist and pressed it hard to his pale lips.

After a long, tense silence, Thor ventured, "Loki? May I ask you something?"

"You just did," his brother replied without inflection.

Ignoring Loki's attempt at sarcasm, the Asgardian asked cautiously, "That black mark on your wrist…what is it from?" Immediately Loki yanked his sleeve down over the knife-sharp protruding bones. Thor bit back a sigh. Loki glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a quick slice of emerald, before he turned back to the fireplace. "Is it a tattoo?"

There came a minute shake of Loki's head. His thumb brushed over his wrist, across the sleeve that now covered the mark, as if tracing a familiar and well-worn path, but that distant green gaze stayed fixed on the hearth.

Mind racing, the prince tried to think of what the mark could be. Something from Thea? Some sort of scar? But if Loki wouldn't share this now, perhaps they could come back to it later. Thor had the feeling that the mark was important, somehow. Just as important as Loki's refusal to acknowledge that he'd killed Coulson.

Why wouldn't he admit to it? He'd admitted to practically everything else, so why not that one thing? Unless it was guilt for murdering his beloved's husband…but somehow Thor knew that wasn't the reason. Oh, it might have been guilt, but not because of Coulson's connection to Thea. And what had Loki meant, that Coulson had betrayed him? In the first few days after that revelation, Thor had tried in vain to get Loki to explain that remark, but he'd refused time and again. Perhaps now would be a good time to bring it up again.

"What did you mean about Coulson, Brother?" Thor asked into the silence that had fallen between them. He leaned back in his chair, scanning Loki's expression for some telling sign…but his foster brother didn't react to the question at all. Thor fought against grinding his teeth. "How did Coulson betray you?"

The ghost of a smile played about Loki's thin mouth. "You must be dying with curiosity."

"I confess, I am."

Loki settled back in his seat, mimicking his elder brother. Was it conscious, Thor wondered? They'd often imitated each other in their childhood—Loki always acting as his shadow, the prince realized. Just as he'd said before. How long since it had begun to choke Loki, like a bone in his throat, to continue acting as that shadow when he was just as strong, just as quick and clever as Thor?

"Do you remember all those times I would trick you when we were boys?" Loki asked suddenly, breaking Thor's thoughts like glass shattered by a stone. Blue eyes locked with green. Thor nodded. Loki rarely brought up the past without a reason these days. What was it? "Remember I would make an illusion of myself, and you would always fall for it." Another nod from the elder prince. "You fell for it that day, as well," Loki mused. "The day I stabbed your Midgardian friend."

Hurt pricked behind Thor's breastbone and made his eyes sting. Was his little brother trying to mock him again? How could he speak so callously and remotely of cold-blooded murder? "Yes, I did fall for that trick again the day you murdered Coulson."

Loki shot him a vicious look, then rolled his eyes. A surge of temper heated Thor's blood. He swallowed it back. Loki was no doubt being difficult on purpose. He wouldn't give the Frost Giant the satisfaction of losing control.

"It's the interesting thing about _seiðr_," Loki said when his expression smoothed out. "So many spells are interconnected. So many magics resemble one another. Illusions, for example…and teleportation. And they combine so easily. Hence why I could cast the illusion and teleport in the same moment," he added, sparing a laconic glance for his brother. "Why you always went through _me_—because I was both there and not there at the same time. Did you ever wonder about that?"

Unsure what his brother wished him to make of this revelation, Thor said, "So you can make copies of yourself and teleport. What of it?"

Loki shook his head. "You and Odin…so unimpressed with anything you can't comprehend. Don't you see anything?" He sighed, then closed his eyes, wrinkling his brow and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "Do you know what a telegram is?"

Thor frowned. "A telegram? No."

"It is a Midgardian invention; clever enough for their species, I suppose. It is a copy of a message, sent through wires by electricity, across vast spaces. Sometimes the message is delayed…but it almost always arrives eventually. Sometimes eventually is too late."

Gooseflesh erupted across Thor's forearms at the emptiness in Loki's voice and the odd, burning blue sparking in his green eyes. Swallowing, forcing down the unease, the prince leaned forward. "What do you mean, Loki? What message?"

"Do you want more of the story, or no?"

"Loki, what message?" He couldn't get his brother's words out of his head. _The message always arrives eventually. Sometimes eventually is too late_. It couldn't be too late for his brother. He would _not_ give up on Loki yet, no matter how his foster brother tried making him do so. Once he had the whole story, Thor could go to Odin with the truth. They could begin to heal the wounds festering between Loki and his family.

But Loki shook his head. "I will tell you later. I do not wish to speak of fruitless endeavors now. I tried, and I failed, and my love is dead because I trusted the wrong man. What more needs to be said?" He closed his eyes. "She spoke often of her precious school."

The abrupt change in topic threw Thor for a moment, but then he realized Loki was effectively shutting the door on the previous subject. He would not speak of this "message of hope" again until he chose. If the crown prince continued to pester him, he might never explain his meaning. Thor needed to drop it for now. So he only asked, "What did she say?"

"She spoke of her life there, the things she'd seen, the people she'd met. What it meant to live in a place where she wasn't shunned for her abilities, for the stigma of being what she could not help but be…"

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_"I was terrified the first time I came here," Thea told Loki._

_They sat on the creaking wooden bench-swing beneath a towering oak. Before them lay the school, Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, cozy red brick, golden stone, and rosy wood. The grounds were almost eerily empty for such a sprawling place, but after more than two weeks of walking through the illusions Thea created, where only the two of them tread, Loki was used to it._

_"Why were you afraid?" He asked, watching the sun dapple through the leaves across her face._

_In all this time, he'd learned a great deal about her. When he asked her questions, she answered without subterfuge. She loved every season for different reasons; loved animals, and wished she could speak to them the way one of her former schoolmates had been able to. Thunderstorms stirred her blood, she loved dancing in the rain, adored books of every sort, despised alcohol, and had done nearly everything that a Midgardian could do at least once: swim with dolphins, jump from the Midgardian invention called an "airplane," slide down a snowy mountain on a flat, hard device called a "snowboard." Her life was an encyclopedia of experiences._

_But he was beginning to realize that her bluster and enthusiasm hid something inside her, a sorrow she'd accepted long ago and sought to ignore when possible. Loki had yet to discover just what that sad darkness had come from. Perhaps it was merely a hundred or a thousand shadows fallen across her life at different times. Regrets and hurt and anger. He didn't know…but he wanted to._

_"Well, so the story is, Austin was thirteen when his powers appeared. I idolized him. Theo and I both did, actually. Until Joie was born, it had just been the three of us for almost three whole years. Well, and my mom and her husband, but you know what I mean. Then Austin started getting his powers. He was so scared, we couldn't figure out why, but he begged us not to tell our…parents. We would've done anything for him, so we promised not to."_

_"What could he do?"_

_A soft smile flitted across Thea's face. "He made the most wonderful things—sand sculptures and waterspouts and pictures out of flower petals. Sometimes he'd make a tornado of petals from our mom's garden and I would spin and spin and spin in a circle, laughing…but we only did that when no one was home but us. He made a kitten out of fire once. It was so beautiful. I tried to pet it when he wasn't paying attention, and I burned myself." She held up her hand, palm up, and Loki was startled to see the shiny, melted-wax scar of a serious burn across her palm. "Austin freaked, of course. He felt horrible. So did I."_

_Loki frowned. "Why should you feel badly?"_

_"Because me getting burned was how our mom and her husband found out about Austin's powers. My mom cried. She didn't care about Austin being a mutant, but he was in tears because I was hurt and I was hysterical because my hand hurt and my mom was crying and so was my big brother. Mom was just stressed out about the whole thing. She knew things would get difficult once it came out that Austin was a mutant._

_"Her husband, though…he started shoving Austin around. Calling him a freak, saying he'd hurt me on purpose. Everything started going crazy because Austin was scared. The stove flared up. The water in the sink started splashing everywhere. Theo and I were both crying at that point, and Joie was screaming—she was just a baby, so she was more freaking out about everyone else freaking out._

_"Then my mom's husband hit Austin. Smacked him across the face and knocked him down. So naturally, Theo and I attacked him to protect our brother. That's when the very first hint of mine and Theo's powers showed. Usually they don't hit until puberty, but the professor told my mom later that the stress…anyway, Super Douche was whaling on my brother, shoving us back, saying it was for our own good. He did the same thing to our mom. She's kind of tiny, and he was huge, so…anyway, he broke my brother's arm, six ribs, and his nose. So I…"_

_She trailed off, glancing furtively at Loki before dropping her gaze to her hands. Loki didn't speak, slightly shaken by the toneless way she could recount such a horrible thing. For all of Odin's faults, he'd never_ beaten _Loki or any of the other boys. They'd been strapped occasionally for misbehavior, but nothing that would send them to the healers. Nothing like what Thea was saying._

_Thea seemed uncomfortable, as if she were wishing she hadn't spoken. Loki murmured gently, "So you what?"_

_"So I made him go blind," she confessed in a whisper. Loki's brows rose. "Not real blindness," she hastened to add, "and it wasn't permanent. I just lashed out. I was scared. We were all scared. I got a headache, and then suddenly the ex-husband was yelling that he couldn't see. Then Theo made this noise, and the ex started yelling that there were bees stinging him. My mom shoved him out of the way, got Austin. Theo grabbed Joie and I grabbed the first-aid kit and we all piled in the car and left before the ex could recover and come after us._

_"We knew we'd done something bad—Theo and I, I mean. That we'd hurt him somehow. And Austin had hurt me. We went to the hospital, and my mom explained what had happened to the head nurse while they took care of us. Then she called Professor Xavier, this doctor had recommended it, and the professor sent Ms. Munroe and Dr. McCoy to meet with us. They were nice, and Dr. McCoy was fuzzy which made me about as happy—"_

_"Fuzzy?" Loki interrupted._

_Thea grinned. "Yeah. Blue fur, it was everywhere. He even let me pet his arm. My mom was mortified that I'd asked, but he just laughed. He could tell we were nervous. And they talked to us about coming to the school, all three of us, and my mom and Joie too so Mom could see what it was all about. Dr. McCoy said Austin definitely needed to go so he could learn to control his powers better, and he said the professor could look at Theo and I too, to make sure we weren't going to have any issues._

_"My mom ended up working as a music teacher at the school," Thea added. "For a while, anyway. The first several years. We all stayed, because it was safe and the professor said we could. That was why I was scared to be here," she explained. "Because when I arrived, this man_ looked _at me…and I knew he could tell everything I was thinking and feeling, and I thought he would know how I'd done something bad and hurt somebody. They were always talking about mutants hurting people on the news and stuff, you know? I was scared he'd call the police and they'd put me in jail or shoot me._

_"But then he smiled and said in my head, 'You don't have to be scared. I'm like you.' He was a telepath, and he talked to me in my head for a few minutes while my mom talked to his friend, Mr. Lenscher. Mr. Lenscher was nice, too. He gave me this stuffed tiger my very first day, and a book of funny comics about a little boy and his stuffed tiger that came to life. Said it would 'encourage my imagination.'_

_"Then I got to meet a few mutants my age who were born mutants, kids I could talk to so I knew they weren't going to sell me into child slavery or anything. And some kids who got their powers a bit early, like Mij'nari, Ms. Munroe's son. He was nine, but he was nice to me even though I was younger. He could run like the wind—literally."_

_Loki studied her for a long moment. The longing on her face, a shadow across her features, was obviously to him. She spoke often of her life before her capture, but never as if she feared losing it. Why? How did she maintain such optimism? Or did she only mask her fear?_

_"You miss your life on Midgard," Loki murmured. Thea shrugged._

_"I'll see them again. Phil will be here soon. Or someone will. You know, SHIELD guys or whatever. Or Professor Logan." For some reason, this made her laugh. The pseudo-Æsir raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Logan's just…he's the self-defense teacher at the school, for those of us who want to become fighters. I took his classes when I was in high school and college; Phil insisted. But of course most parents can't know we've got an experienced war veteran with foot-long razor-sharp claws popping out of his knuckles teaching us how to fight bad guys, so he always says he's an art teacher."_

_"An art teacher," Loki repeated._

_Thea's grin took on an edge of mischief. "Uh-huh. We tell all the stupid parents that, the ones who get offended when Logan tells them they should just love their kids, no matter whether they can freeze things or set stuff on fire or move objects with their minds._

_"Imagine that," she added with just a touch of bitterness. "What kinds of parents love their kids no matter what? What a bizarre concept." Hopping to her feet, she headed for the stone courtyard with the nets on metal poles. "You know, we never did get around to playing basketball."_

_He watched her stride toward the courtyard, but it took him a moment to get up and follow her. His longer stride allowed him to fall into step with her quickly. She kept her gaze fixed on the basketball court. Loki looked forward as well, but asked, "Do you ever think that perhaps…just perhaps…Phil won't be able to find you? Or your professor?"_

_Thea stopped short. She simply stood there, as if rooted to the ground, for several long moments while she stared at the bright orange sphere of the ball resting against the silvery pole._

_"No," she said at last. "No, I don't."_

Yes, _Loki thought with a sharp, poisonous mix of sympathy and unease_. Yes, she does. She's afraid, but she hides it. Why hide it? _Perhaps for the same reason he hid his darker, deeper emotions from her—because to share them was too raw, too difficult, too intimate when they already shared so much in the darkness of their cells. After that moment where he'd fallen to his knees, overwhelmed to be back in Asgard, he'd tried to keep up his guard. He couldn't let weakness in. It already gnawed at him in the darkness whenever Thea slept, unable to wrap him in her illusions._

_"Now come on!" She cried, turning to him with that bright, happy grin that was still one-hundred percent sincere. "Come on, come on! No chickening out, Loki—we are playing some basketball today. And you will probably whup my very adorable butt, but you're cute enough, I don't mind losing."_

_Letting her change the subject, he followed her to the court. She explained dribbling, traveling, slam-dunking. Biting her lip, she sized him up, then glanced at the towering basketball hoop overhead._

_"Yeah, you're the only one who can dunk a basketball on this court. Why are you so freaking tall, anyway? Is that like, an alien thing? Or is it just you?"_

_"All my people are tall," he said, then hid a wince. He'd meant the Asgardians, forgetting for a moment that he_ wasn't _Asgardian. He was a Frost Giant…and they were a tall, towering race as well. But they weren't his people. Could_ never _be his people._

_Thea cocked her head, still looking him up and down. "Huh. After you kick my butt, can I have a piggyback ride?"_

_He blinked, certain he hadn't heard properly. "Beg pardon?"_

_"What? I'm short, you're tall, two plus two equals fish, that's how it goes. I want a piggyback ride. You're a guy, you're strong enough. Please, can I have one?" She bounced for him again, beaming. "Please, please, please?"_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I deserve a reward for making the hole bigger," she replied promptly. Rolling the ball between her hands and grinning, she added, "Good question, teacher. Ask me another one."_

_In truth, she'd made remarkable progress on the little window between their cells. In the past however-many days since she'd arrived—she was keeping track with a device called a cellular phone, though Loki was not—she'd widened out the hole until she could actually stick her head through it. It was how she occupied herself when too tired to form illusions, or those rare occasions when Loki slept (somehow he'd slept through the racket she always made; he was weary enough)._

_The first thing she'd done after widening the hole that far was to shove through a soft, plush thing she'd informed him was a stuffed tiger—the same one given to her by Mr. Lenscher—named Hobbes, large enough to serve as a pillow. His sleep after that had been more restful than he'd known in six months._

_"How is that a reward?" Loki persisted._

_"Um…well, I gain about two feet in height, which is cool. And I don't have to walk around_, you _get to carry me. Plus we'll look like a mutant with six arms and two heads, which will make all of our invisible friends jealous. Where's the downside to this situation? I don't see one." When he just looked at her, she sighed. Her smile slipped just a touch. "If you don't want to, you don't have to."_

_"I do not understand why_ you _want to."_

_She frowned at him, obviously confused. "You…don't?" She eyed him. "Are there women on your planet?"_

_"Yes, of course."_

_"And they…don't do piggyback rides?"_

_"Well, little girls do, but you're hardly a little girl."_

_Thea just stared at him. "That is…weird. Huh. Okay, never mind. We can just play, I don't mind. Whatever you want." She tossed him the ball. "First, you gotta change clothes. Think of something a little more comfortable than all that metal and leather and whatnot." Puzzled, he pictured one of the outfits he wore for weapons' practice in his mind—loose, green-dyed linen shirt and black canvas trousers, soft leather boots. There was the by-now familiar tingle at the nape of his neck as Thea's powers began to work on him, and the next moment, he wore his practice clothes instead of his kingly garb. Thea smiled. "Nice. Love the collar. Shall we?"_

_Loki's hand stole up to touch the open collar of the loose shirt. His fingers found the smooth silkiness of the simple golden embroidery his mother had stitched into the collar, before his fingertips slid to the sharpness of collarbone and the hollows of his throat. What was Thea seeing that made her "love" the collar of his shirt? The embroidery?_

_"My…my mother did it," he said softly. Thea frowned and stepped up to him._

_"Did what?" One hand, quick as a bird, came up to alight on the collar of his shirt. Her fingertips moved carefully over the ridges of thread, like a blind woman reading the raised letters of a book. "This?"_

_"Was that not what you were admiring?" Loki asked, feeling an odd tightness in his chest. Thea's fingers hovered just above the sensitive flesh of his throat. One twitch of her fingers and she would be touching his skin._

_Blue eyes flicked to his face. Soft color spread through her cheeks, complimenting her freckles. "To be honest…no. It's beautiful, though. Your mom did it?"_

_"She did," he murmured. If not the design, then what?_

_"You never talk about your family," she said. "You wanna postpone our game and maybe tell me about—"_

_Loki said quickly, sharply, "No."_

_She nodded, quietly accepting. "Okay. No pressure. Let's play, huh?"_

_There was a strange exhilaration in physical exertion after being cramped up in that horrendous little box of a prison cell. That was one reason he always chose to do something strenuous in these illusions—swim at high tide, climb jagged peaks, trek through rough woods. This game, so new to him, was another such trial. By the time he'd managed to snatch the ball away from her and get it through the hoop enough times that there was no hope whatsoever of Thea ever catching up to his score, he was panting for breath._

_"You're (pant) so (pant) good at this!" Thea slumped against the pole attached to the hoop, sliding down to sprawl on the ground. Her smile was tired and happy, like a child at the end of an exciting day. "You sure you've never played this before?"_

_"I promise you, I have not," he said, seating himself tailor-fashion beside her. She smiled up at him. "I confess, I'm not very good at such sports."_

_She snorted. "Whatever. You just walloped me. I just got schooled. At least I've got a hot teacher, though."_

_Ignoring her comment on his attractiveness—it still left him unsure what to say—he replied, "No, it's true. My brothers are much better at such things."_

_At this, she simply shrugged, which surprised him. It didn't bother her that she'd been beaten, didn't bother her that he'd picked up the game so quickly…and didn't bother her that Thor and his other brothers were far more athletic than he. Why not?_

_Thea said, "Always someone better at something than you. Besides, sports aren't everything. This boy I went to school with, Lance, he was great at football, but he was an idiot. Brawn doesn't mean you_ can't _have brains, but brawn instead of brains isn't exactly a prime deal, you know? Besides, look at me!" She rolled onto her stomach. Propping her elbows on the stone and propping her chin on her fists, she said, "I'm okay at sports, but I'm a genius, and I'm a love goddess. I'm like Athena and Aphrodite smushed together into a totally adorable package. I could be a supermodel if I wanted."_

_A supermodel, Loki recalled, was a Midgardian woman who posed in things called photographs for advertisements for clothes and such. A woman had to be very beautiful to be a supermodel. They were considered Midgard's finest examples of womanhood. "So why don't you become one?" He asked, smiling._

_"I'm camera-shy," she replied, as if it were obvious. "I know I'm depriving the world of its Eighth Wonder by hiding this face, but I can't help myself—I don't like cameras. Or paparazzi. Or starving myself to fit into a pair of skinny-jeans I wouldn't be caught dead wearing in public. Besides, guys like women with actual flesh, not skin on bones. Right?"_

_"You're asking me?"_

_"You see any other cute guys around here whose opinions I require in order to go on living? If you've got a roommate in your pocket, please let me know. I'd like to meet him." Holding out one hand, she crossed her eyes. A small, golden-brown object appeared in her hand. "I love creampuffs," she said with obvious longing. "They're like someone killed me in a really happy way and then dipped my heaven in chocolate sauce with sprinkles right before I got there." Popping the little pastry into her mouth, she conjured another. "And like my angel-wings are made out of cotton candy. I could get fat just thinking about them. Want one?" She asked around the mouthful of pastry._

_He chuckled. "Thank you." Taking the tiny thing, he took a bite. Flaky pastry and sweet vanilla cream filled his mouth. He made an appreciative sound. "Very good."_

_"Loki, why don't you talk about your family?" Thea asked suddenly, and everything in him went still. The warm, gentle feeling he'd found in the last hours disappeared like a ghost. She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze fixed on a dandelion puff, so white against the vibrant green grass. "You'll say the odd comment or whatever, but you don't talk about them really. How come?"_

_He wouldn't tell her. He wouldn't speak of it. Wouldn't think of it. He would say nothing about Thor, about his parents—his_ foster _parents—his other brothers, his lost friends. He would say_ nothing_._

_The words came without permission, without any willingness from him. They came, a flood held back by the dam that had finally crumbled asunder beneath too much pressure. "I betrayed them. I hurt them…badly. I lost them. I intended…things got out of hand. I wanted to prove to my father that I…that my brother Thor, that he wasn't…but everything got out of hand. And my friends believed I'd intended it to be so."_

_Thea sat up, scooting closer. She drew her knees up to her chest. Loki distantly noted that her odd blue trousers had been replaced by cropped green trews that ended just beneath her knees, giving him a view of slim calf and delicate ankle. She had freckles on her legs as well. Folding her arms around her updrawn knees, Thea leaned toward him._

_"Tell me," she said gently._

_Loki just looked at her. All the words crammed into his throat, trying to fly into his mouth and leap off his tongue, all tangling together until they were just a jumble. Memories of his family throbbed in his skull like an abscessed tooth. He shook his head and looked away._

_A slender hand touched his arm, just beneath the shoulder, warm through the thin linen shirt. That warmth spread through his arm, up into his chest like fingers of light. Only a soft touch. He hadn't expected…hadn't even thought she would…was she trying to comfort him? She squeezed his shoulder, a very gentle pressure._

_He looked at her. It hurt, for some reason, to look at her. Maybe because of what he saw in her face. It was impossible to describe her expression, but it sent a vicious aching thrill through his body, as if he'd touched a lightning bolt with his bare hands. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel his heart hammering in his breast._

_"Do you…" Thea hesitated, nibbling on her lower lip. Her blue eyes seemed more gray at the moment, clouded with silver sadness. She brushed a lock of hair from her face with her free hand. "Do you want me to look?"_

_Look. To have her see, and experience, and_ know…_for someone, anyone, to know everything he'd wanted to explain, yet couldn't…for someone to know the truth, that he would never do what everyone no doubt believed he'd done…but would Thea turn away from him for what she would see?_

_Her hand slid from his shoulder down his arm, a soft caress. He swallowed and met her eyes. He'd never seen her look so serious. The wind swept wisps of her hair across her face, made it dance on the breeze as she met his eyes and refused to look away._

_"If…if you wish," he said._

_"No. Do_ you _wish?"_

_After an eternity, Loki nodded._

.

"You let her read your memories?" Thor demanded, incredulous. After a moment, Loki nodded. Thor could only stare at him. After only two weeks, Loki had let Thea read his memories of the events leading up to his fall from the Bifröst? What could have prompted him to trust her so quickly?

But he knew, even though part of him didn't want to acknowledge the similarity between his situation and his brother's. He'd lost his heart to Jane oh so quickly, in only three days' time, and partly because she had been there for him when he'd needed someone. When he'd been grieving for everyone he loved: his mother, whom Loki had made it seem despised him; his father, whom he'd believed had died thinking Thor didn't love him, and his last words to Odin before his exile had only fanned the flames of his guilt; his brothers, who he'd thought believed him responsible for Odin's death, except Loki; and for his friends, whom he'd been sure he would never see again.

In that darkness had been Jane, like the light from a guiding star, listening to his stories of his father and of Asgard long into the night while they talked of the Nine Realms and the stars and all those myriad of peoples who studied them. Had Thea been Loki's guiding star in the darkness of the Chitauri dungeons? By his own admission, he'd spent hours upon hours, day after day, in the world of Thea's memories.

"I wanted someone to know," Loki murmured.

Stung by that—wasn't _he_ someone?—Thor said, "Then why not tell me? Why not explain to me instead of throwing yourself off the Bifröst? I would have listened to you, Brother. If you'd explained to everyone, then surely—"

"I wanted someone to _believe_," Loki amended. "Thea had no choice but to believe. She could see my past etched into the stone of my memory. She experienced it all: every thought, every emotion, every second of those days leading up to our battle on the Bifröst. Not only that, but later, when we grew closer…she asked the same questions I did."

Thor frowned. "What questions?"

"Why Sif and Three betrayed me, for instance." A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "She hated Sif."

Baffled, the crown prince asked, "Thea? Why? She didn't even know her. And when did Sif and the Three betray you? Our friends would never betray us, Brother. You know that."

Loki shook his head. "Still so blind. They betrayed me, Thor. What sorts of friends suspect you of treason without proof and then run to tell tales in the king's ear, hmmm? What sorts of friends claim that every word you speak is a lie? Because that is basically what Sif said when she told the others that I didn't want you to return home because I was jealous of you. I reminded them all that I loved you, more dearly than they ever could—of course I did; you were my twin brother—but that you needed to learn how to be a king before you came back and got people killed. Sif waited until I'd walked out and then spilled poison in the ears of the rest of my so-called friends. How quickly they forgot that I'd saved their lives."

Pursing his lips, Thor studied Loki for some time in silence. His brother didn't seem to mind; he just stared into the fire, gazing down some unseen, distant road of memory. At last, Thor said, "Is this what you told Thea?"

"She merely saw my memories and drew her own conclusions. She knew, and was surprised you never saw, how much our so-called friends hated me. Don't bother trying to deny it," he snapped when Thor tried to protest. "You may be blind and a fool, but you're not _that_ blind or _that_ foolish. You know the others only tolerated my presence because I was your brother. You were the one everyone wanted. Our friends wanted to carouse and drink and gamble and brawl with _you_; the women always wanted to bed _you_; Father always favored _you!_ Whereas _I_ was the one shunned and despised unless _you_ made them accept me.

"I had thought Sif would've been my ally," Loki added. "After all, we both were trying to break the rules, were we not? She was a maiden who wished to be a warrior; I was a man who wished to be a sorcerer. I tried to encourage her. I defended her when the other warriors belittled her for being a woman. 'Little girl,' they called her; other things as well, not worth repeating. I spoke up for her, as you did, but yours was the favor she wanted, and she hated me for giving her mine." Softly now, he said, "To this day I don't know why."

"Loki…Sif and the others were your friends. You cannot believe they would hurt you deliberately. I would never do such a thing, and neither would they. You and Thea are mistaken—"

His little brother held up a finger as if in warning. "Careful, Brother. She had my memories, and knew my thoughts, but she had her own. She knew what she was seeing. She told me they didn't hate me, of course. Thea rarely thought badly of anyone, really. In her mind, she was sure the others didn't realize how much they were…but not Sif. Once my lady learned of the time our little valkyrie slapped my face and called me _ärgr_, it was an all-out mental war between her and Lady Sif."

Thor stared at him. "When did Sif call you _that?_"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter? I do not care one way or the other about Sif and the rest. I only care about Thanos. He—must—die. I _will_ kill him…eventually. I'll bathe in his blood if I must."

Eventually. _Sometimes the message is delayed…but it almost always arrives eventually. Sometimes eventually is too late_. The message, the prince remembered. Loki hadn't explained what he meant. Pushing aside thoughts of Sif's sharp tongue—he would speak to her about Loki's accusation later—the Asgardian said, "Loki, earlier you spoke of a message arriving too late. What message?"

"Does it really matter?" Loki asked wearily.

"Yes," he said. "It matters to me. What message, Brother?"

The breath shuddered in the thin chest and the voice wavered when Loki whispered, "Hope. A message of hope. When I faced your Avengers, your Midgardian heroes, I thought to myself…_what if?_ I wanted to test their mettle, hoping she'd been wrong about…but she was right. She'd been wrong about a great deal, but not that. And so I had one last chance, one last-ditch plan to make it all right again. If it worked, all would be well. And it all hinged on two men, and they both betrayed me in the end. Two men who are dead…or should be."

"Who were these men?" Thor prompted. "Coulson?"

"Coulson," Loki acknowledged softly. "And the one called Nicholas Fury."


	13. A Change in the Wind

_Author's Note__: thank you guys so much for the positive reception for this story so far! I love you all! Hugs for everybody! And a special shout out to__This Iz Pointless__(and her sister) for being so awesome. Extra hugs for you! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this latest chapter and I look forward to hearing back from you about it._

_More hugs (and cyber cupcakes)!_

_- LA Knight_

_A Note on Realism__: I've done some research into people being held in captivity and people who are tortured. Many people have the expected reactions to such horrible events, but certain individuals handle the darkness and the pain by forcing themselves to be positive/optimistic, and it's easier when they have to take care of someone else. That's Thea's outlook on everything, pretty much. She can handle anything (after she's had a good freak-out) because she has to take care of Loki._

_**A Memo on Time**__: in case you guys haven't really been keeping track, it is now the beginning of December in the story timeline. To give a brief overview of main events, Thor happened at the very beginning of April 2011; Avengers occurred in September 2012; and we're currently in December of 2013 (in the fic verse, obviously). Just to help you guys keep it straight in your heads._

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Chapter Twelve  
A Change in the Wind

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.

Sif leaned against the wall just beyond the door to the dungeons, waiting for Thor.

Things had been noticeably cooler between them since she'd commandeered Loki's drawings. She wanted to make amends…but she wasn't certain how, or why Thor was so angry in the first place. Loki had been upset, yes, but he'd done no harm during his tantrum. No healers had been called for him, so he hadn't hurt himself. She'd been keeping her ear to the ground to make certain of that. And obviously his rapport with Thor hadn't been damaged, or why did the crown prince continue his daily visits?

Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun approached her, sweaty from sparring in the indoor practice ring, their clothes caked with sawdust and perspiration, snowflakes dusting their hair. They'd gone out a little after breakfast to spar. Sif had been in the salle since dawn, sweating out her doubts while thinking hard about Thor…and Loki.

She didn't know how she felt about Loki. Part of her hated him—he'd hurt Frigga, who'd been like a mother to her ever since she'd declared her intention to become a warrior, and he'd hurt Thor. That, more than anything else, made the Asgardian woman want to haul the fostered prince out onto the practice field and beat him until he begged for mercy. And part of her wanted to simply hit him, just slap him across the face as she'd done once before, because how could he _do_ this to any of them? They'd been friends. They'd _loved_ each other—Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Three—and he'd betrayed them all. Lied to them. Tried to kill them. How could he have even thought it, much less _done_ it? Why had he done it?

Sif slid her fingertips along her palm, over the new blister at the base of her thumb. She didn't normally get blisters anymore, her hands were so callused, but she'd worked longer and harder that morning than she had in a great while, and it had taken its toll. Her arms and shoulders ached. Her legs felt a bit weak, too. Taking a drink from her waterskin, she sighed and nodded to the lads.

"Waiting for Thor?" Fandral asked, smiling. He was like a beam of sunlight, Fandral. Rakish good looks, dapper clothes, suave demeanor. No wonder the women all loved him. After Thor, he was the one the women of the court sought out most.

"He is with Loki," Volstagg said. Sif knew it wasn't a question, but she nodded. "What do they talk about in there, do you think?"

Shrugging made her shoulders twinge just a bit. She really had overdone it, she realized. "No doubt whatever lies Loki has concocted to explain why he took the…" She trailed off. She'd been about to say "took the throne," but remembered at the last moment that Thor had said _the queen_ had made Loki king-regent during the crown prince's exile. "Why he did all that he did," she finished lamely.

"I heard you purloined a trio of sketches done by our former friend perhaps two months ago," Fandral said, losing his smile. Sif's dark eyes flew to Fandral's grass-green gaze, then she nodded. "Well? What were they of? I heard Loki kicked up a dreadful fuss about it."

"They were all of a woman," Sif replied. "The rumors of that were true. But who she might be, even Thor doesn't know."

"I have heard the guards speak of this woman," Hogun broke in. The others stared at him. Glancing around first to make sure no one was listening, he leaned in closer and said, "She is Midgardian. Her name, they say, is Althea."

Volstagg raised his eyebrows. "A fair name for a mortal. Who is she? Loki's woman?"

Sif scoffed. "If she is," the warrior maiden replied, "she's obviously blind, to find _him_ pleasing. Surely even a Midgardian could do better than that sword-slim, whey-faced sorcerer." Swallowing back her annoyance—those were nearly the same words many men had flung at _her_, for her pale skin and lean body, but they were of greater shame when spoken of about a man, and _many_ had said such about Loki in the past when he was out of earshot—Sif added, "Besides, everyone knows Loki is _ärgr_."

Fandral nudged her sharply with his elbow. "You know better than that, Sif. The only people who say such things are those who wish to slander him. He has enough marks against him without any of us needing to make up lies. He's bedded enough women in his time, you know it isn't true. Besides, this mortal may not be so foolish as you think. Perhaps she succumbed to Loki's silver tongue."

Sif raised an eyebrow. She tried to drown out Thor's voice in her head, telling her that someone Loki held dear had been killed. "The silver tongue that turned to lead? One wonders. But how do you know this, Hogun?"

"She is what Thor goes to Loki to speak of every day. Loki speaks of how he met and wooed her, or so the guards say."

She frowned. "Why would Thor even care about such a thing?" And still in her head, refusing to be silenced, was Thor's voice. _Someone Loki held dear…_

"I have _heard,_" Sif knew Hogun emphasized the word to ensure his friends knew he had no solid information, "that she is dead. Her and a child, a mortal girl named Sophie, and that Loki blames Thor for their deaths. So far, Loki has not explained why."

"It has been at least six months since this all started," Sif protested. "Why is he dragging this out?"

A child? Thor had said nothing of a child. Whose child? Surely not Loki's by this woman?

Hogun hesitated, which made the others pay stricter attention. The grim warrior rarely spoke, but when he did it was normally with swiftness and surety. For him to hesitate now meant that what he was about to say was important—extremely important—and that it needed to be said carefully.

"The guards say they also discuss Loki's treachery here in Asgard. They say that Loki and Thor have struck a bargain to help Loki obtain vengeance against Thanos for the deaths of this woman and the child. And they say…that Loki claims _we_ betrayed _him_."

Volstagg scoffed. Fandral simply stared at Hogun incredulously for a moment before growling, "The little cretin. How dare he slander us like that? We were his friends for centuries before he stabbed us all in the back! Is Thor listening to this rubbish? Tell me he knows Loki's lies for what they are! We would never betray our comrades!"

But for some reason Sif suddenly recalled the day she'd slapped Loki. It had been at least two-hundred years ago, and he'd found her weeping in the stables. Thor had said something to hurt her feelings, she remembered. He'd only been repeating gossip he'd heard, laughing about it as if it were some big joke…but she hadn't thought it was a funny. Not a bit funny…

.

_"They say no man would have you but Loki," Thor said, chuckling as he polished his sword. "You're both of you so fey. Neither of you knowing your place, they say. Since you'd make no man a good wife, you'd be perfect for him, because you'd make a good husband, being a warrior and all. And Loki would make you a good wife, Sif. We'd be brothers." And Thor laughed, as if it were a hilarious joke._

_Sif shoved her spear into its brackets on the salle wall and strode out without a word, leaving Thor laughing. What did he know about it? What did he know about all the lads over the centuries that Sif had tried to preen for, tried to court or be courted by, only to be turned away because they didn't want a whey-faced manling on their arm or warming their beds?_

_The tears burned when they fell down her cheeks, burned as she thought of Thor—the one person she'd been sure would never say such things about her—laughing. Laughing at_ her.

_Loki found her in the stables, feeding her mare an apple while she hid her face in the silky mane and wept. He had the temerity to ask her what was wrong. As if he didn't know. It was one thing to be mocked for her own sake. She_ would _be a warrior one day. But to be ridiculed for that_ and _because Loki had this daft dream of being a sorcerer? Men were_ not _sorcerers. It wasn't_ normal _to have the gift for_ seiðr _that Loki did. Men didn't_ have _such talents._

_Real men, anyway. Wasn't that what that little "joke" had been about? The one Thor thought was so blasted_ funny.

_When he laid his hand on her shoulder, the hurt and rage and dashed hope surged up inside her and she flung his hand away. When he tried to speak, she struck him as hard as she could across the face. How dare he touch her? People would_ see, _didn't he realize that? They would see and they would talk and everyone would mock her even more. And still he reached out to her._

_So she cut him with words. She, Lady Sif, was a warrior maiden, more of a man than the effeminate Prince Loki could ever hope to be. She might have been unnatural, might have been fighting her_ wyrd _to try and become a warrior, but at least she wasn't a woman in a man's skin. At least she wasn't a coward, fighting with a woman's weapons. At least she wasn't_ ärgr.

_Loki looked at her for one long moment, surprise mingling with something else on his pale face—his face, marred by the crimson handprint she'd left on his cheek. Then he bowed to her. His green eyes, swirling with shadows, gleamed. Was he secretly laughing at her for her childish tantrum? He bowed, then walked away without a word._

_He still spoke courteously when they met after that. He always took her part when others in the salle laughed at and mocked her for her prowess with weapons. But there was something different about him, and Sif wondered if she would ever understand what had changed._

.

"Nicholas Fury?" Thor echoed, staring at his brother. "What has he to do with this?"

Loki sighed. "So many questions. You fool, Odinson. What did you think you were dealing with? A man like Fury…he's as much a monster as I am, yet you are blind to his cruelty. It is the same manipulation and power-hungry malice that is in Odin. I heard him, Thor. I heard Fury ask you to torture me. Your own brother. A prisoner, helpless. Did such viciousness not give your precious honor even a twinge?"

How could Loki ask these things, Thor wondered, in a voice as dead and hollow as a ghost? But all the crown prince said was, "Brother, I would not have tortured you, no matter how Fury demanded it. I would not have allowed _them_ to do it, either. Surely you know that."

"That isn't the point," the green-eyed prince replied wearily. "The point is, he asked it of you. The point is, Althea was wrong about him. She was wrong about her professor. She was wrong about Coulson. She was wrong about so much. Her faith in these men…she died believing that they, and I, would find a way to save her and Sophie." Loki's hand curled into a fist. "I want Fury _dead_ for betraying her."

"Is that why you killed Coulson?" Thor asked. "Because he betrayed Thea? Because he left her and Sophie at the mercy of the Chitauri?"

Another heavy sigh from his foster brother. "You're still not listening. I stabbed Coulson because it was necessary. Why do you never listen?" Before Thor could reply, Loki added, "You asked me once if Thea listened. She did. She knew me, somehow. Even before she walked my memories, absorbed my past…even before that, she knew me, and she _listened_. Why does no one else _listen?"_

"I _am_ listening, Loki. I give you my word."

His brother shook his head. "You're trying; I must give you that. But you still don't _hear_. Listen, Thor. Listen carefully. I did what I could to make it right, but my loyalty belonged to Thea…to Sophie. I had to protect her. Protect them both. I did what was necessary to keep them safe."

"But it didn't work," Thor said. He tried to inject sympathy into his voice, because he truly _was_ sorry. Loki had tried, but for all his cunning, all his clever plans, all his determination…Thea and Sophie had both been killed.

Loki shuddered. "No. No, it didn't work. From the very beginning, I should have known, because even from the first, I couldn't protect Thea from the Chitauri. When they took her from me the first time, I…there was nothing I could do but stand by helplessly and pray they brought her back to me alive. I could only listen to her screams and try to think of some way to help her."

Icy horror slid through Thor's guts like poison as he realized what his brother was telling him. "They tortured her." Loki looked away, shaking hard. A cold hand squeezed the crown prince's heart. "You could hear them torturing her?"

Pale lips pressed hard together until they were nearly white. Loki's hand convulsed into a white-knuckled fist so tight it shook. "Yes," he whispered. "In the moment when I first felt closest to her, when she showed me that though I was a monster from the ice and the dark, she wouldn't turn away from me…then they came and took her away for the first time…"

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_Thea raised her hands and touched her fingertips to Loki's sweating temples. She closed her eyes. Heat spilled down his backbone from the nape of his neck. Warmth emanated from the touches on either side of his skull, spilling through his brain. Thea's brows slowly drew together. She frowned. Some of the color drained from her face. Her breath stuttered to a halt. The heat along Loki's spine intensified._

_Then Thea was pulling back, breath coming in shallow gasps, hands shaking. Something cold coiled in Loki's belly like the world-serpent. She was so pale now. What was she thinking?_

_Wide blue eyes met his probing gaze. Her lips parted. Loki held his breath._

_"Holy mother of macaroni and cheese, you're over a thousand years old," she cried. Loki blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. He had no idea what to say to that. It had been the last thing he'd expected. She shoved her hands through her hair and stared off into the distance. "Oh my gosh, you're old and you're hot! Am I a Lolita? My mother will kill me, that book's disgusting."_

_"A what?"_

_"Huh?" Thea's gaze snapped back to his face. She blinked and seemed to focus. "Right. Sorry. Never mind." She shoved a hand through her hair. Loki was almost stunned to see it wasn't shaking at all. He felt it should have been; after all_, he _was shaking._

_Thea looked at him then, and he saw it. Not revulsion or pity or horror, as he'd expected. There was only sympathy. More than that, understanding. How? How could it be there? But it was there. He saw it in her eyes. It was as inescapable as his father's disapproval or the darkness waiting beyond the edges of this newest illusion. She understood…somehow._

_"Loki," she whispered._

_He tensed. What would she say? 'I understand. It's all right.' He despised the very idea of such things. He could see that the Midgardian understood, she'd read his memories like a book, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear her say—_

_"I'm your friend."_

_His mind blanked. His breathing stuttered. Somehow he managed to whisper, "What?"_

_She leaned toward him, peering into his face. This wasn't the cheerful, childish Thea he was used to. This woman was so very different from the girl who made him laugh. She whispered earnestly, "I'm your friend. Why do you look so nervous? Do you think this will make me stop being your friend? That I'll stop liking you? Because I won't."_

_"You can't simply say that after I've shown you—"_

_"I know what you were you trying to do," she said softly, tapping her temple with one finger. "I saw it. You just did it wrong. Really wrong," she added, looking a bit disconcerted. "But you meant well. Good intentions and all that stuff. And you regret it; that's the thing. I felt that, too."_

_Loki surged to his feet. He couldn't listen to this. He couldn't hear her say this. She couldn't be telling him the truth. Why wasn't she horrified? Why didn't she call him a monster? Why wasn't she shying away from him for being a Frost Giant? She'd seen what the Frost Giants were like in his memories, when he'd shown her how he'd brought them through the Bifröst. They were hideous beasts, she knew that._

_He had to get away from her. He had to be alone, had to think, away from this woman who made no sense at all, who should have shunned him for what he'd done, what he_ was—

_His boots had just touched the grass when she caught his hand. He froze, unable to take another step. Her grip was like iron shackles, impossibly heavy, rooting him to the ground. Her fingers felt so small and fragile wrapped around his hand; gossamer chains._

_"Loki, don't go." The request was like a knife in his belly. Quiet, timid, Thea added, "Please."_

_Somehow he managed to draw enough breath to speak. "Why would you want me near you after all you've seen?"_

_"Why do you want me to go away?" She asked. "Are you mad at me?"_

_That was the last thing he'd expected her to ask. He turned back to her to see her eyes were wet, though no tears fell. Her lip trembled until bit down on it to keep it still. The expression of hurt on her face reminded him too much of the look on Thor's face when Loki had hit him with the haft of Gungnir in the Gatehouse._

_"Why would you think me angry with you?"_

_She dropped her gaze to her white tennis shoes, scuffed green and brown with grass stains and dirt. "For looking at your memories, I guess. Or for saying the wrong thing after. I'm kind of a big-mouth, I'm sure you've noticed, and maybe I offended you."_

_He shook his head. "No, you did not. I…it isn't that. Thea, you must understand. My own family doesn't understand…does not accept or have faith in…they don't…Thea, I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night. The enemy of the Asgardians. Shunned, despised, the Frost Giants are barbarians, demons of the ice. They slaughter indiscriminately, they butcher innocent women and children, they—"_

_"You don't do that," she said, murdering his explanation before he had a chance to spit all the words like poison. "You're not like that. And you're a Frost Giant. I didn't read all your memories, but I did read the ones you showed me, what you did with King Laufey and your brother. You're not a monster. You were just…desperate. People I care about have done desperate stuff before."_

_"Such as attempt to kill an entire race?" Loki demanded._

_His mouth fell open when she said, "Yes, actually." He stared at her, stunned. She folded her arms across her chest. "The last person to have illusionary powers similar to mine, he and his father tried to wipe out every mutant in the world. A bunch of my teachers stopped him, obviously, but the other thing they had to do was stop one of their own. My former teacher, Mr. Lenscher, hates regular people. He's afraid of them, and he hates what they've done to us mutants, so he tried to reverse what that other guy was doing, and kill all the normal people._

_"This guy, Mr. Lenscher…him and the professor are both like my dad, basically. Okay? I love them. They helped raise me and my brothers and sisters, gave my family a safe place to live, taught me how to be strong; to be proud of who I am and what I can do. And he tried to kill billions of people because he wanted to protect our kind. So yeah, people I love have done desperate, crazy stuff before. I don't approve, obviously, but I still love them. Deal with it."_

_Helpless, Loki shook his head again. "Thea, you can't possibly accept—"_

_"Um, excuse me, I do what I want," she replied, shoving her hands into her pockets and rocking back on her heels. "You're not the boss of me, hot stuff. So you're stuck with me. At least you feel bad about what you did. Mr. Lenscher totally doesn't. So like I said, deal with it."_

_He stared at her. "What?"_

_"You heard me, Green Eyes. You're stuck with me. We're friends. That doesn't mean you're allowed to go kicking kittens or anything—not that you would—but I'm not ditching you because you panicked and did something…ill-advised."_

_Seeing the look on her face, he narrowed his eyes. "You were going to say 'stupid.'"_

_She smiled. "Maybe. It was a bit stupid, you gotta admit." Her smile slipped. "But you were trying to protect your family, your friends. Like I said, I was half-raised by Professor Xavier and a bunch of teachers who've killed people before. My history teacher_ electrocuted _a guy. On purpose. People kill. I know that. Sometimes they kill and regret later. You regret. So…" She shrugged. "What do you think? That I'm going to just cut you off?"_

_"My family has."_

_"How do you know? You pop out of our little box and pay them a visit recently?" She reached out and took his hand; the gentle touch took the sting from the words. "If I haven't, they haven't. Well, one hopes, anyway. If they did, they suck like a vacuum cleaner and you should forget them. You have me now." She beamed at him. "I'm like a fungus—I grow on you."_

_Somehow, with her smile and her calm acceptance and her determination, she dredged up a chuckle from him. He shook his head, fighting bafflement and hope and the dregs of frustration and dread. "You're absolutely mad."_

_"You've never read_ Alice in Wonderland, _so you don't realize that all the best people are. Don't worry, you'll be mad one day, too. Just stick with me long enough and everything will work out. We'll be nuts together." She bounced on her heels a little, looking unsure. "So…this feels like a hugging moment. Or is that my madness talking?"_

_Loki stared at her for a long moment, then—hesitantly and a bit self-consciously, unused to such an action—opened his arms to her. She made a small squeaking sound, somewhat like "oooh!" and rushed into his arms. Her slender arms came around him and she laid her head against his chest. Her hands curled around his ribs, warm through his shirt. After another long moment, Loki curved his own arms about Thea's slender body. His hands settled at her hip and shoulder. To his surprise, she closed her eyes and relaxed completely, making a small sound of contentment._

_She smelled of flowers, he realized. The fragrance clung to her hair, which cascaded over his hands like a curtain of silken threads. And she was warm against him. It had been a long time since he'd had another's body against his. She was soft, pliant. When was the last time he'd held someone? A woman?_

_He'd held his mother for the briefest moments after killing Laufey…before Thor had arrived and his mother had rushed to_ him _instead, forgetting all Loki had done. And before that…he could not quite recall. A woman interested in a single night's coupling, no doubt. It was long enough ago, however, that Loki couldn't actually remember. And this was different somehow._

_"I like hugging you," Thea murmured, voice half-muffled by his shirt. "You're warm." Her grip tightened fractionally. "If you want me to let go, just tell me and I will. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just haven't hugged anyone in a couple weeks. That's a record for me. I'm a big hugger."_

_"I am not uncomfortable," he said softly. "You needn't let go." Her embrace was oddly comforting. In the circle of her arms, somehow he found the doubts he felt at her acceptance smoothing away. The hand he'd set on her shoulder drifted up to rest lightly against the silk of her hair._

_"You sure?"_

_"Don't let go," he whispered. Somehow it seemed as if his next breath, the very beat of his heart, hinged on whether Thea kept her arms around him. It had been so long since someone had touched him without intending to hurt him. Loki laid his cheek against Thea's hair. She sighed; he felt it through his shirt, soft and warm against his skin. "Don't let go."_

_This touch…no pain with this touch. No pain. No misery. Only comfort. Warmth. Only good things here, no pain. No, he never wanted her to let go._

_But suddenly Thea pulled away. He felt the absence of her like a fist in the belly. He stared down at her, unable to comprehend why she'd wrenched back from him. Why did she look frightened?_

_The light from the sun overhead flickered, dimmed. Loki frowned and stared up at the sky. Strange black lines were spreading across the wisps of cloud and the blueness above. The wind died abruptly, leaving everything oddly still. Loki looked back at Thea, who ran her fingers through her hair._

_"Someone's coming," she whispered, eyes wide as she gazed up at him. "Loki, it's too soon. They shouldn't be coming now. They fed us a few hours ago."_

_Coming. The Chitauri were coming. There was only one reason they could be coming to his and Thea's cells off-schedule. The monsters wished to try forcing one of them to cooperate. So far the Chitauri had left Thea alone, and Loki wasn't due for a torture session for a few days yet…he thought. It was hard to track time in his cell. But they were coming_ now.

_"How long?" Loki demanded, forcing himself into the role of soldier, of hardened warrior._

_Thea ran shaking hands through her hair again. "Um…a minute, maybe." The dark lines thickened overhead before the inky blackness began spilling down the dome of the sky toward the horizon. Loki realized he couldn't smell the grass anymore, or feel the concrete beneath his boots. He couldn't feel the heat of the sun on his skin, either. Thea struggled for composure as she added, "I can hear them. Their footsteps, like when they bring us food. A minute, I think. They'll be here in a minute."_

_"Thea, listen to me." He gripped her narrow shoulders. The panic in her eyes sent anger surging through his belly; the Chitauri were interrupting their time, intruding on the haven of their little mirage. "Listen to me. If they take me, you must not try to stop them. You mustn't call out to me. Do you understand?"_

_Her eyes widened further. The color drained from her face. The blackness touched the horizon and began flowing inward toward them like living night. "If they…take you?" She grabbed the front of his shirt with trembling hands. "Where are they going to take you? You're coming back, aren't you? You're coming back, right? You're not going to leave me, are you? I mean, not forever, right?"_

_"I pray not, but that doesn't matter right now. You mustn't let them know that you know of me or they may try to separate us. Promise me this."_

_"But—"_

_"Promise me, Thea!" He demanded. She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, the illusion shattered, plunging him into blackness. His hand flexed; it was empty. "Thea?"_

_There was a muffled sound that might've been a sob from the other side of the wall. "I'm here. Sorry. I couldn't hold the illusion. I'm freaking out too much. I'm sorry."_

_"It's all right," he said quickly. "Just…you must be prepared."_

_Loki quickly shut off his flashlight as the steps beyond the door drew nearer, shoving it and the stuffed tiger he now used as a pillow in the corner, back behind where the door would come to rest if it was opened. On the other side of the wall, he heard Thea shoving her packs against the lower part of the hole, blocking it from view._

_He couldn't stop himself from imagining her, alone in the darkness, huddled with her knees drawn up to her chest. Part of her confidence in the situation, he knew, came from the fact that the Chitauri had established a basic routine since her arrival—the morning feeding, and many hours later, the night feeding. No other interaction at all. She'd been able to suppress her fear._

_Not now. Not anymore. And perhaps that had been part of their purpose in establishing that routine to begin with. Why were the Chitauri coming? Loki tried to think. Because they'd heard all the racket Thea had made when she'd gone to work on the hole in the wall? Or something else? What did they want?_

_The footsteps echoed hollowly beyond the door as they passed his cell…and stopped in front of Thea's._

_Icy pearls of sweat beaded along Loki's hairline, dripping down his temples and the bridge of his nose. No. No, no, they couldn't be stopping there. It was a mistake, it had to be. Not her. Not her, they couldn't want her, they couldn't…_

_"Loki," she breathed_. "Loki."

_Somehow he found the presence of mind to whisper, "Be strong, Thea. Be brave." What if they took her? What if they wanted her and took her away? He could not be alone again. He could not let them take her away. He could not let them hurt her. But what could he do to stop them? "Be strong."_

_As if from far away he heard her whisper, "Okay."_

_He heard the cell door open. His gaze zeroed in on the hole in the wall. Palms damp, he pressed his hands against the cold stone and tried to see into the other cell, lit dimly from the soft glow of the corridor._

_Thea looked up from where she hunched in the corner, her gaze settling on the two Chitauri soldiers that came into her cell. Helpless rage exploded in Loki's chest when one of them reached down and grabbed her roughly by the arm, hauling her to her feet. His fingers dug into the cracks between the stones until blood beaded along his fingertips and spilled over his hands. His breath whistled between his teeth. The Chitauri yanked Thea out of the cell, slamming the door behind her._

_Alone. Alone again in the blackness, the empty void. Fumbling for the flashlight, Loki clicked it on. Thea had said the battery—the tiny cylinder that powered the light—had been made by a man known as Stark, and that the battery would give up to a solid month of light because it was a "self-renewing energy source." The light helped push back the dark teeth gnawing at Loki's mind enough for him to think._

_They'd taken her. They'd taken Thea. What would they do to her?_

_From too close by, he heard a shrill, panicked, pain-filled scream. His throat constricted. Thea. What were they doing? Bor's ghost, what were they_ doing _to her? Another scream echoed from down the corridor._

_Loki lunged for the door. His entire body shuddered at the merciless impact of flesh against metal. He had to get out, he had to get to her. He was alone in the shadows and she…she was alone, at the mercy of the Chitauri. Thea_. Thea. _He had to swallow back the howl of rage and fear that pulsed in his throat, the howl that tried to take the shape of her name as it attempted to escape his lips._

_Gritting his teeth, Loki tried to think. He couldn't get out; he knew that. He'd only hurt himself trying. Already his still-mending ribs and arm throbbed from his collision with the door. His bad knee screamed in pain. He couldn't do that again. What to do?_

_Thea would need help when the Chitauri brought her back. She would need someone to tend her hurts…but he couldn't get to her. He was still too weak, too hurt to use his magic and change his size or shape in order to fit through the hole._

_He'd have to make it bigger. And even then, he wouldn't be able to get through…but Thea might be able to crawl through, he thought, if she wasn't too badly hurt. She could slide through if he could make the hole big enough, and he could take care of her, help her in the aftermath of whatever horrors were making her scream like that._

_Ignoring the pain in his broken arm, he thrust his good arm through the hole in the wall, groping for the thing Thea had shown him that she was using to pry off chunks of stone from the wall. His fingers found a long, flat piece of metal. Grasping it, he yanked it through the hole. Then he reached back through for the rock Thea had taken from the river near where she and her family had been camping. It was a large stone, bigger than Loki's fist._

_When he'd asked why she'd taken it, Thea had said with a smile, "I know it's just a rock, but he looked like a Bob. Or a Wilson. I'm not sure which. And he looked lonely. So I took Bob Wilson and stuck him in my bag so my brothers and sisters and I could find him a rock-wife while we were hiking or whatever. Maybe some pebbly kids."_

_Now Loki took "Bob" in one hand and wedged the nail-file in a deep crack in the stones. Then he began hammering away, intent on doing whatever it took to widen out the hole. The exertion made him sweat, sent twinges of pain through his bad arm, but he licked the sweat from his upper lip and kept hammering. The banging helped mask the sound of Thea screaming in pain. Brave girl—not once did she scream his name, though she_ did _scream for help._

_A droplet of liquid spilled down his cheek when he heard her scream for her mother. He'd done that—at first. When the Chitauri had tortured his voice to nothing. Not anymore, though. He didn't scream for Frigga anymore. Loki wiped the droplet away. Sweat, he told himself. It was only sweat._

_Thea's screams echoed down the hall for hours. Loki gritted his teeth and kept hammering, even when his arm begged for relief and his back ached from hunching over. He would stop when she came back. Only then. He would only stop then. Only when they stopped hurting her, when they brought her back to him at last._

_They didn't stop until her voice was gone. By then, Loki had a good pile of rubble and a hole just big enough for her to squeeze through. The stone seemed oddly weak in places…but then, it probably was, what with all Thea had been doing to it._

_The Chitauri didn't go into the cell this time; he'd known they wouldn't. Instead, they yanked open the door and threw Thea to the floor as if she were simply a sack of garbage. She hit with a sick_ thud _and lay still, weeping softly. The door clanged shut behind the Chitauri as they walked away._

_"Thea," Loki called, shining his light through the much-bigger hole. He could see her curled up on the ground, trembling with pain and sobs. "Thea…it's me. Thea, listen to me, you must come here. I can help you. I can tend your wounds. Come here."_

_After an excruciating eternity, Thea slowly pushed herself up on her elbows and began to drag herself toward the hole in the wall. Tears mixed with blood and dirt on her face, smearing it with grime and muck. Loki saw that half of her face was red with blood. When she made it to the wall, he reached through and took her trembling hand. She squeezed it hard._

_"It will be a tight fit," the prince said softly to the weeping girl, "but you can make it. Come on. There, now. Easy." With careful and slow movements, he helped her wiggle through the hole in the wall. The edges of the hole made soft scraping sounds when they scratched against her skin. Thea caught her breath as she stopped, halfway through. Seeing how she shook, Loki dragged her the rest of the way in himself._

_The moment she was inside, she curled herself around him, clutching the collar of his filthy shirt, and wept until he thought she might be sick with it. It seemed natural for her to cling to him. It seemed natural for him to hold her. Loki braced her as best he could with his good arm. She was surprisingly light. Frail. Her tears trailed hot and wet down his chest as she cried into his shirt. The shock of having someone in his cell, an actual physical person, left him half-reeling, but he had enough thought left to gently stroke Thea's hair and rock her a little with what meager strength remained to him._

_"It's all right," he murmured. "It's all right. Shhh. It's all right. They're gone now." He knew they would be back, however, and so did she…but that wasn't important just then. What_ was _important was calming her down enough to assess the damage. How badly had the Chitauri hurt her? "Shhh, Thea. You were very brave. So brave. You have the courage of a valkyrie."_

_Sniffling, at last she pulled her face out of his shirt and looked up at him. He could just make out her features in the dim light. Bruises covered her face, and blood still smeared some of her features. It seeped steadily from a cut over one eye. She took a shuddering breath._

_"One question before I go back to crying my head off," she whispered, her voice a barely-there rasp in the dimness. "Well, two questions."_

_"All right," he said gently. "What are they?"_

_"First, have you ever had a pop-tart?"_

_He blinked and found a smile trembling on his mouth. "No."_

_"For the love of raspberry cheesecake, what am I going to do with you?" She shook her head, forcing a smile. "One of these days I'm going to go all mad-scientist on you and embalm you with chocolate sauce. Make you my personal Eclaire-en-stein, except cuter."_

_"I do not even know what that means," he confessed, feeling relief pressing down on him like the weight of a storm about to descend._

_Her smile wobbled, but not as much as it had. Her face didn't seem as if it would crack in half. "It's like Frankenstein, except you come with rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top. Which sounds kinda dirty, but it's not. Just…sticky. Probably. And you'll smell like a Boston cream pie and probably melt in the sun. And I get to wear a sexy, sexy lab-coat with M&Ms for buttons. Or maybe Skittles. I've always wanted a lab coat with Skittle buttons. Taste the rainbow and all that. I like rainbows. Jeez, I kind of feel a little drunk right now. Or maybe hung-over. I feel like the 'o god of hangovers,' that's how I feel. I won't throw up on you, though, I promise. That would totally put the kibosh on this lovely date we're having and we won't get to do the tango."_

_She was struggling to hold onto her cheer, her silliness. Why? Did she think she needed to be brave for him? She was braver than any warrior he'd known. Even as she trembled with the pain, she flashed him that bright smile. She seemed to draw strength from his nearness. The closer she pressed, the less she shivered._

_"You're utterly mad," Loki whispered, stroking her hair. Why did he feel this ridiculous sense of pride that she wasn't broken by the Chitauri's tortures? He didn't know how long it would be before they did to her what they'd done to him, but even so, Thea remained unbroken. Brave girl. Such a brave girl. He was so very proud of her. "You know that, don't you? You're utterly, absolutely, wonderfully mad."_

_"Bonkers," she replied. "Off my rocker. Hungry. I've got a chocolate energy bar I've been saving, maybe I'll nibble on that when I stop feeling like I want to kill somebody. Unless you want it. But yeah, I'm feeling a bit crazy right now. Scared, pissed, in pain, kinda want to cry. Kind of want to kill some freaky aliens. Maybe I'd run them over with my motorcycle. Or an ice cream truck. Except vehicular homicide is probably morally wrong."_

_"Does it matter to you?" He asked, cradling her. To his complete astonishment, he found himself smiling a little. "That it would be considered morally wrong?"_

_"Not according to the voices in my head telling me to rob an ice cream truck," she mumbled. "Wait till these Chitauri guys get a load of me when I'm PMSing. They will run screaming for their mommies. They will cringe in fear while I run them over with an ice cream truck. I want ice cream," she added. "So bad. Like, seriously. I can almost taste the whipped cream and lime and…why are there lemon sprinkles in this fantasy?"_

_"When you're what?"_

_"PMSing," she replied, sliding one arm across his chest to hold tightly to him. "PMS, you know. Girl stuff. The whacked-out mood swings before your courses start. PMS—Prepare to Meet Satan. Erm…Satana. Whatever, everything hurts too much for me to be gender-specific. So I gotta ask…what's a valkyrie?"_

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_Author's Note__: hope you guys enjoyed (is that the right word for a torture scene?) this chapter! Remember, reviews are love. Love Loki, love me, and love yourselves. Huggles!_


	14. The First Vow

_Author's Note__: and we're back with chapter 13! And 14. Why? Because I am super-mondo superstitious about certain things and the number 13 is one of them. When I read books, I never stop on chapter 13. When I write, same deal. And so when I post, I_ try _not to stop there either. Sometimes I have to and then I get nervous. So we're not doing that today. So hope you guys enjoy the next two chapters! Hugs for everybody!_

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Chapter Thirteen  
The First Vow  
(aka Ice Cream Pretty Much Cures Everything)

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_"What's a valkyrie?"_

_"A warrior maiden," Loki replied, adding silently_, As you are, though you know it not. "_Now, Thea…how badly are you hurt?"_

_She sniffed back a few tears. "Nothing broken. It doesn't hurt badly enough. They pretty much just knocked me around except…except my arms and on my back. That really hurts."_

_Loki shifted her so that he could inspect her injuries. The little cell was cramped with two people in it, but he still had enough room to maneuver. He put the flashlight between his teeth and took Thea's arm, palpitating carefully. She yelped when he reached the flesh above her elbow. The sleeve of her shirt was damp, stiff. Loki realized he could smell blood and the stink of burnt flesh. He frowned._

_"Thea," he said gently, placing the flashlight atop the pile of debris by the wall so he could see everything better. "I need you to remove your shirt."_

_Her fingers went to the row of tiny buttons running from the neck of her yellow shirt—now a sort of dusty mustard color—to the bottom. Loki was surprised she didn't protest until he saw that she wore another shirt beneath it. This one had no sleeves, only thin straps that showed off her collarbones and shoulders. Her skin was pale and clammy with sweat. He saw freckles lightly dusted her shoulders, too. When she tried to slide the overshirt down her arms and off, pain spasmed across her features and she hunched down, whimpering._

_"I can't," she whispered. "Jeez, that hurts. My shirt's stuck. I can't…"_

_Loki grasped one edge of the shirt. "Allow me. This will hurt." Thea nodded, her face tight with pain. Slowly, Loki peeled the shirt down Thea's left arm first. The fabric made a sickly crackling sound as it pulled away from the flesh of her shoulder and upper arm._

_Thea began to cry again. "Ow," she whispered. "Ow, ow, ow. Ow. Jeez, jeez. Frack, frack, frack."_

_"Good girl," he murmured, trying to soothe. "Good girl. Be strong."_

_In the light from the Midgardian device, Loki could see that a long, thin strip of hot metal had been pressed repeatedly against Thea's arm. The flesh was red and shiny between the deathly-white blisters. Her shirt had been stuck to the raw edges of the burn. It peeled away, drawing blood from the ruined flesh as it did so. The same happened to her other arm. The overshirt itself was actually charred in places. They hadn't removed it before burning her._

_The back of her undershirt was charred as well. Loki carefully pulled it up to reveal the burnt flesh of her back, blistered and raw. She whimpered when he pulled the shirt away from her back and rolled it up so he could look at the wounds._

_"There's a first-aid kit in my duffel bag," she said. "It has antiseptic wipes and gauze and some burn-gel, I think."_

_With a little blind rooting around because_ he _couldn't poke his head through in order to find the kit and be able to use the flashlight, he managed to get his hands on the duffel bag—and thus the box that Thea described to him. Pulling it into his cell, he undid the latches and looked at the contents. Piecing together what Thea told him and what he'd seen of Midgard while he'd sat on Odin's throne, Loki tore open an antiseptic wipe and began cleaning the burns on Thea's back._

_She hissed and arched her spine to escape the fire of the antiseptic. Loki said nothing; merely waited for her to settle again. Once she'd relaxed, he went back to cleansing the burns. Minute tremors shivered through the girl's thin frame as he worked, and she kept flinching away, apologizing every time. Loki merely worked around her perfectly reasonable reaction to the pain._

_After a while, he realized he could see the faintest ridging of rib-bones against flesh in Thea's torso. She hadn't complained, but she needed better food than the slop the Chitauri served twice a day. She was too thin. Not as thin as he was, but too thin._

_He'd been working for several long minutes in heavy silence when Thea began to sing._

"I like glitter and  
Sparkly dresses  
But I'm not gonna talk about that  
In my monologue.

"I like baking and  
Things that smell like winter  
But I'm not gonna talk about that  
In my monologue."

_Loki paused for a moment and stared at her. Her voice wavered, but it was still clear and sweet. Nothing special, but lovely after the silence he'd grown accustomed to in the last several minutes._

_"What are you doing?" He asked, beginning to work on the sprawling burn again._

_"Singing to keep from screaming," Thea replied in a voice tight with pain. "My mom taught me that when I was a kid and I had to get vaccinations. Still hurt, but it gave me something else to think about. Especially if I picked a funny song or a silly poem. I've got one that'll make you blush, but it's pretty crude. Learned it from Austin when we were younger. It has the eff-word in it, so it's not really…anyway, I like this song better."_

_"The 'eff-word?'" Loki asked._

_"Earth profanity. It's a word that means 'sex.' Anyway, I was singing 'Monologue Song.' Taylor Swift is a singer I like on Earth, she's pretty cool. She did this silly song for a comedy sketch on television. The rest goes…_

"I like writing songs about  
Douche-bags who cheat on me  
But I'm not gonna say that  
In my monologue."

_"But you just said it," Loki pointed out. Thea shot him an exasperated but smiling look over her shoulder and he canted his head. "My apologies. Pray, continue." He didn't care what she did, so long as he could work without having to hear her whimper and cry. The obvious pain in her made him grit his teeth. He wanted to find the Chitauri that had hurt her and rip them to pieces; the urge was like the hot-cold pulse of_ seiðr _in his blood._

"I like putting their names into songs

So they're ashamed to go in public…"

_When he was done cleaning the burns, he carefully dabbed on the white Midgardian cream that claimed to help with such injuries. Then he covered the raw flesh with gauze and surgical tape. He was miserly with the gauze; it would have to last them…he didn't know how long. That done, he lowered the back of her shirt to cover the gauze. Thea shivered._

_"I didn't tell them about you," she whispered, abandoning the final notes of the song. "Us, I mean. That we were…you know. Talking and stuff. I don't even know if they saw the hole in the wall, but just to be safe, I didn't say anything about you."_

_"You are very brave," Loki said softly, brushing back her hair. He'd never touched her hair in the real world before. It wasn't as soft as it had been in the illusionary world—no doubt because it was dirty and tangled—but he remembered its softness. It didn't smell of flowers, either…but he remembered the fragrance of it from the mirage._

_Loki studied Thea. Tearstained cheeks, dirt, and blood made her look older than her twenty-four years. Opening another antiseptic wipe, he began cleaning the cut above her eye. It was deep. Without stitches, it would take a long time to heal…but he was no surgeon, and they had no needle or thread. Instead he cleaned the cut and applied what Midgardians called a "butterfly bandage," trying not to think about her nearness, the way her presence seemed to fill the dimness with something tangible and almost intoxicating. This was different, somehow, from all the times they'd been together in the illusionary worlds she created._

_"Thank you for taking care of me," she said. Carefully she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her arms on them. Her chin dropped to her only-bruised forearms. She moved like an old woman, he thought. It shouldn't have been so. "Can I have Hobbes?"_

_Loki retrieved the stuffed tiger from behind the door, a bit worse for wear after being squashed by his head, and handed it to her. She tucked it in the little cave made by knees, arms, and head, the top half of the toy poking out next to her cheek. She didn't seem to care about the grime on the toy's fake fur. She simply held it tightly, eyes closed. Loki leaned back against the wall and tried to ignore the utter weariness that seemed to settle over his body like a death-shroud. His knee throbbed, his arm ached, and breathing hurt from the tight pain of his ribs. But that was nothing as he studied Thea once more._

_She was so silent…but he could see her, hear her breathing, smell her nearness. Remarkably she didn't stink. Well, she did a little, but nowhere near as badly as he did (not that she seemed to mind his stench). And she seemed cleaner. Simply a matter of being imprisoned for less time? Or was she actually making a point to take care of herself in that box of tenebrous horror?_

_Suddenly Thea turned to him, eyes bright and shining in the dim light from the electric Midgardian torch. Clutching Hobbes in one hand, she scuttled across the foot of space separating her from Loki and pressed tight against his body, uncaring of dirt or grime. Fitting her body to his, clutching the stuffed tiger, Thea laid her cheek against Loki's shoulder._

_"They hurt me," she whispered, and he realized she was crying afresh. "It hurt so much."_

_Somehow he found the strength to put his good arm around her. "I know," he whispered back. Her tears trailed hot down his shoulder, his chest, his arm, leaving tracks of nearly-clean skin in the layers of dirt. "I know. I'm sorry. I am so sorry_, suetyng." _The endearment slipped off his tongue without him realizing it at first. Once he fully registered what he'd called her, he fell silent, though he continued to hold her._

_"What if…what if Phil isn't coming?" Thea asked a few minutes later, and he could tell it cost her a great deal to ask such a question. "What if they can't find us? It's been more than two weeks. What will we do?"_

_We. They were irrefutably and irrevocably "we" now. More than that, they were…they were…Whatever they were, whatever the days in darkness had made them, was such an infinite, complex thing that Loki couldn't put it into words, not even in his own thoughts. Even the ghost of it was almost more than he could bear to think about. Instead of thinking about it, his arm tightened fractionally around Thea, careful of her burns and bruises._

_"I do not know," he said. "But we will be together, and that is something, is it not? Neither of us will be alone." She nodded and cuddled closer. Loki could feel her trembling, despite her bravura. "Will you be all right?"_

_She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I just need some ice cream. Ice cream fixes almost everything, pretty much."_

_"Will illusionary ice cream suffice?"_

_The small laugh that came was weak and tired, half-afraid, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Yeah."_

_"Do I also get illusionary ice cream?"_

_Thea glanced up at him and raised one eyebrow. There was just the faintest spark of her old mischief in her eyes. "Don't push your luck, Green Eyes. Touch my limey, whipped creamy, key-lime-pie-y goodness and I will shank you with a spoon."_

_"No sense of gratitude in these young ones," Loki muttered, feigning offense._

_"All's fair in love, war, and dairy products, dude."_

_He found a wan smile curving his mouth. "Is ice cream considered a dairy product by Midgardian standards?"_

_She shrugged, wincing. "Technically. It's got milk in it. Super fatty milk, but it's milk. That makes it dairy. And healthy. At least, that's the lie I tell myself so I don't feel like a beached whale when I eat it. It's delicious enough, the fib is worth it." She propped her chin on his shoulder and was quiet then for a long time. Finally, she said, "Loki…I don't want to die here. I don't wanna die alone, here in the dark. I hate the dark. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die alone. Loki…I…"_

_The words came without permission, bruising his tongue with their weight and searing his mouth with the heat of their promise. "You won't," Loki whispered. "I won't let you die alone. No matter when that time comes, no matter where you are, I will make certain you are not alone. Do you understand? I will be with you, Thea. I swear it. My word as a prince of Asgard."_

_She didn't remind him that he wasn't actually a prince of Asgard, only burrowed against him like a child seeking comfort. They'd only hurt her a little—compared to what they'd done to him—but she was shell-shocked by it. The Chitauri had managed to crack the shell of her bravado. How to fix it?_

_"I'm kinda scared, Loki. I tried to use my powers, I couldn't help it…but they didn't work. It's like there's a block there or something. I mean, I literally felt what wisps of illusion I had run into this…wall. We can't get out. I can't break through that block. I'm scared."_

_"I know," he murmured, masking the sudden savage teeth tearing into him like a fear-beast. Perhaps with even more practice, she could shatter that block. Perhaps…but perhaps not. "I know you're frightened," he added. "But you're also very brave, Althea."_

_Slowly she pulled back enough that she could look him full in the face. Her expression was one of bewilderment. "How funny."_

_Loki quirked a brow. "What's funny?" He didn't see_anything _funny about their present situation._

_"It doesn't bother me when you call me Althea. I usually hate that name, but…I kind of like it when you say it. Occasionally," she added, making an odd face. "I'm still Thea Sigyn Valerian, but…I dunno. 'Althea' sounds pretty when you say it like that." Thea bit her lip, then suddenly darted forward—though Loki knew it had to hurt—and pressed her lips against the line of his jaw._

_The breath faltered in his lungs. Where her lips had touched, the skin tingled. Those lips were soft somehow; rose petals against his jaw. Her breath touched warm and moist on his dry skin. He swallowed hard, everything whirling around him. Lightheaded still from lack of food, from dehydration, and from the fading adrenaline that had flooded his body while Thea had screamed and screamed, Loki could only stare at her in wonder. Of their own accord, his fingers came up to touch the spot where she'd kissed him. It felt warm where the rest of him was chilled with drying fear-sweat._

_"Why did you do that?" Loki asked softly._

_Thea blinked slowly, the dim glow of the flashlight catching on her lashes. She licked her lips. How were her lips so soft? Taking a slow breath, she replied, "Because you took care of me…and because I wanted to. Are you mad?"_

_He shook his head almost numbly. She'd kissed him. She'd…she'd_ kissed _him._

_"Your lips are soft," he blurted, then could have kicked himself. That was something foolish and dull, something Thor or Tyr would've said. What had happened to his famed silver tongue?_

_She shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Chap Stick. I have, like, twenty tubes of the stuff in my bag. I collect flavors, you know?"_

_"I see." He had no idea what Chap Stick was._

_"Let's get out of here," Thea said suddenly. "I can focus. I can get us somewhere special. Somewhere nice. Let's just get out of here for awhile, okay?" Clutching the tiger to her breast, she sniffed back a few last tears. "They can hurt us, but they can't stop us from escaping in our heads. They can't. So they can go…rub a monkey's tummy."_

_Loki's brows rose nearly to his hairline and he blinked, positive he was hearing things. "They can do what?" She'd been beaten, burned—she'd been_ tortured_—and_ that _was what she said of her tormentors?_

_"I'm trying to think of something other than how much I want to jump off a cliff and drown right now," she said tersely. He forced back a wince. "The first thing that popped into my head was my favorite book when I was little, and someone used to say that about the people they hated. It just came out. I can't…I can't freak out about this anymore or I'll shut down. I can't do that. You need me. I mean, we need each other. So let's get out of here for awhile, yeah?"_

_"You have to go back into your cell first," Loki replied. His jaw still tingled where she'd kissed him. His mouth felt strange, his lips almost numb. A thought was trying to form in his mind but the prince wouldn't allow anything beyond a nebulous sort of_ what if?

_Thea looked stricken. "But I want to stay with you!"_

_"If the Chitauri return, and find you in my cell with me…Thea, think of the consequences. I…" Loki gritted his teeth, trying to swallow the words, but they pried his lips apart and spilled off his tongue anyway. "I do not want you to go either. I wish to stay with you, but I cannot. We have to hide our contact as much as possible. You cannot stay here if we're to go into your memories."_

_After several long moments where he could see her struggling with panic and loneliness and anger—rage, for the Chitauri, for what they'd done, for what they were keeping them both from—she nodded, defeated. Her face was miserable when she glanced at the tight hole in the wall. Loki touched her cheek, silent reassurance. They locked eyes for a moment, and he could see the misery in her face, the unhappiness suffusing her gaze. But Thea nodded again and crawled back through the hole. It was easier now that she'd had rest, but still slow going, and the pressure of the edges against her back and upper arms made her gasp in pain._

_When she was gone, back into her own darkness, Loki finally acknowledged the dull ache in his chest that had begun to grow with her first movements away from him. Against all his hopes, despite his better judgment, he'd begun to need her. To trust her. More than that, he…_

We're friends…aren't we? _Surtur's blade, what was he doing? What was she doing to him?_

_"Loki?" Her hand came through the gaping maw of the hole in the wall, white against the dark stone. Knowing he was only making his attachment to her worse, knowing he was opening himself up to a weakness, but also knowing it was a weakness he couldn't do without, Loki took Thea's hand, and let her take him where she would._

.

"And where _did_ she take you?" Thor asked softly. The crown prince sat in his customary chair, elbows propped on his knees, one hand stroking his beard as he considered his brother's words. "Where did you go to escape this new nightmare?"

Loki smiled—a wistful smile that almost made Thor flinch at the grief in it. He said, "There was a place she liked to go on Midgard. A hotel near a place called Disneyland, with a very lovely ballroom. We went there and had ice cream and later, after we'd gone back a thousand times, we…here," the green-eyed prince added, lifting a piece of paper from the table. Blue eyes widened as Loki held out a drawing. Thor rose to his feet. Using a whisper of _seiðr_, the Asgardian plucked it from his little brother's hand and brought it to the glass.

Elegant arches, carved marble columns, and a ballroom floor polished so that it shone almost like glass emerged from the slow, careful charcoal lines Loki had sketched. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, glimmering with light. A vast painting of some sort adorned the vaulted ceiling. Thor thought he glimpsed small winged creatures and clouds, but the details of the mural had been left deliberately vague, the better to emphasize the beauty of the woman beneath the hundreds of glowing lights.

Yet again, the drawing was arranged so that Thor couldn't see the woman's face—but he knew it was Thea. In her slim, dark gown with the ring on her finger the prince had noticed in previous drawings, she danced with a shadow. Thor recognized that shadow as well: Loki. More hinted at than defined, still Thor would've known his brother anywhere. What was more, the shadowed figure curved itself around the slender form of the girl, protective as a guarding hound, even as the pair of them swept across the polished floor. Happiness radiated from every line of Thea's body in the drawing.

"You never draw her face," the prince said softly.

Loki shrugged. "I do."

After a beat of silence, Thor asked, "But?"

"I cannot do it often. I…I cannot. The memories are hard enough." Green eyes slid closed and deep grooves formed between Loki's brows as his face tensed. "And I needn't draw her face to remember it. Verily, I recall it. Every time I close my eyes I remember the darkling shine of her hair falling over her shoulders, the curve of her smile, the light of her eyes like moonlight through mist and clean water; the shadow of freckles across delicate cheekbones, the arch of one brow when she would laugh at herself or tease me about something, the way wisps of hair would lay against her forehead. I remember her." All at once Loki opened his eyes and looked to Thor. "Go away, Brother. Leave me in peace. I will tell you more tomorrow."

"As you wish," the elder prince replied. He didn't react outwardly to Loki's use of the word _brother_. Better to, as the Midgardians said, play things close to the chest for now. But the thrill of triumph refused to abate. This was only the second time Loki had called him "brother" since before Thor's exile, and the first time had been caustic and savage. "Until tomorrow, then, Brother."

However, just as he was about to step out of the pools of torchlight and into the shadows of the corridor, Thor turned back. Today he would speak to his mother again about Loki, and he needed one question answered.

"Loki…I must know something."

His brother leaned his head back against the polished wood of his chair and sighed. "What is it?"

"Why did you tell me Father was dead? Why come to Midgard at all, especially to tell me something that wasn't true?" Thor swallowed, tasting salt and bitterness, but refused to let it sharpen his words. He could _not_ alienate his brother now. "Why tell me Father was dead?"

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but Loki's answer certainly wasn't it. "Because I thought he was."

Anger and hurt flashed like twin bolts of pain through the prince's breast as he advanced on his little brother. "That isn't true. Father was here, safe, in his chambers. You knew where he was all the time. You knew he was in the Odinsleep—"

"But we didn't know if he would ever wake up." Loki's voice was quiet, yet Thor could hear something in it…something like the devastation and fear of a child mourning his father. The same grief that had ripped through the Asgardian the night Loki had come to him in the SHIELD base and said Odin was dead. "Mother told me not to give up hope…but I could see in her face that she already had. She didn't believe he would come back." At last he met Thor's gaze. "And neither did I."

"Why make it seem as if Father died thinking…" Thor's voice cracked. Even after all this time, this was what still hurt more than anything else. "Died thinking I hated him?"

"Because it worked."

Loki had said that before, Thor thought. _I don't regret telling you Odin was dead_, Loki had said oh so coolly. _It worked, didn't it?_ And when Thor had demanded to know what Loki meant, he'd refused to answer. Now the prince asked, "What does that mean?"

"You weren't ready to be king," his foster brother said. "If the Frost Giants attacked, you needed to _be_ ready."

If his brother had intended that to make sense, he'd failed. "What?"

"I told you once I never wanted the throne. I only wanted to be your equal. It was never good enough, for anyone, that I excelled at the things I put my hand to. I had to excel and best _you_ at the things _you_ excelled in…and I never could. I wasn't strong like you. I didn't jump into battle like you and slay my enemies simply by swinging my arms around. I wasn't the one everyone loved. Even before Sif and the Three betrayed me, I knew if it came to war, we would need you. The mighty Thor. But if you came back, the throne would be yours. If you weren't ready, then everything Father had done, everything I did, would have been for naught."

Thor raked a hand through his hair. "So…so what? You break my heart so that I would become a better king?"

"So that you would stop being Odin's son, stop being the crown prince of Asgard, and become a _man_, instead of a feckless boy playing soldier," Loki snapped, straightening in his chair. "It seems as if ever since Mother cut you from her apron strings, you've made sure to hide in Father's shadow instead of casting your own. You were a prince, you were the king's son, but you weren't a king. You weren't a ruler. You wouldn't attempt to become one until you thought you had no other choice."

"What? That isn't true!"

"Until you failed to lift Mjölnir, you walked around with all the brash arrogance and recklessness that had nearly gotten us all killed in Jötunheim. Then, when you couldn't lift the hammer, you were dazed, confused, uncertain of yourself…but you were also angry with Father. If that anger festered, you would have become exactly what our other brother essentially became—nothing but a bitter sword-for-hire who gives no thought to his people, his responsibilities. I had to shatter your anger and leave you with _nothing_, so that you could become _something_. Something other than what you were.

"And it worked. You learned humility. You learned to understand the pain of someone other than yourself. You learned at last that your stupidity had consequences. You learned, in short, just how much of an idiot you'd been. And once you figured that out, you could come home that much sooner."

For a long moment, Thor could only stare at his brother. Loki had always been known for manipulating people…but Thor had never stopped to examine why he'd learned to do so, why he did it, what he hoped to accomplish by it. He'd only ever gotten angry or laughed, depending on the situation. Now he stared, thinking hard, letting his little brother's words sink into his brain.

Loki had been trying, as quickly as possible, to teach him the lesson Odin had failed to teach: that he wasn't infallible, and that terrible things could happen to him with the same brutal suddenness as anyone else, mortal or immortal. Which explained Loki's words, _I'm glad that it_ worked, _yes._

And yet…

"Then why send the Destroyer, if I was ready to come home?"

"I didn't say you were ready," his brother replied. "I said you could come home _sooner_. I'd sown the seeds. They needed time to take root, to grow. And while you were gone, I was going to help deal with the Frost Giants and prove to Father that while you might've been the heir, I was still a viable son. Everyone else would consider what I did to Laufey an act of cowardice."

Cautiously, Thor asked, "And what do you call it?"

"Justice. He tried to kill me when I was a baby. He tried to kill you. He would have tried to kill Father. And it was necessary. Since the Frost Giant king knew of ways to sneak past Heimdall, I had to kill him, to protect Mother and Father. But while I was readying that plan, I was betrayed, which cemented everything I'd feared regarding the war. You weren't ready to come home yet, and with Laufey dead and you on your way back, the war would escalate too quickly. Something had to be done swiftly…and I knew you would try to stop me, so I put an obstacle in your way."

An obstacle? Thor thought with some of the old rage. An obstacle didn't decimate buildings and injure innocent people. None of the humans in Puente Antigua had been killed in that attack, but one of the SHIELD agents had been in the Midgardian hospital with terrible burns over the majority of his body for several months—so Fury had told Thor when he'd approached him a second time to ask for his assistance in torturing information out of his little brother.

But all the crown prince said was, "I couldn't let you kill an entire race."

And as he had that day on the Bifröst, Loki chuckled. "Why not?" Unlike that day, however, this time Loki reminded Thor of something he'd forgotten centuries ago. "After all, you've longed to eliminate them ever since we were boys. You even told Father so. I was there."

"Loki—"

"'I'll go to Jötunheim and slay them all,' you said." Loki's smile turned bitter as Thor winced. "_All_. And Odin told you a wise king doesn't seek out war, but he never told you it was wrong to wish the Giants dead. And there I was," Loki added caustically. "Wide-eyed and innocent manling, thinking how brave you were, how bold, how I wished I could be just like you so Father would look at me with the same pride. And all the time Father let you boast about one day killing all the Frost Giants, even though he knew I was included in that number."

Thor's eyes flew wide and he took another step toward the window. "Loki, no! Father never intended…he didn't mean for you to take it in such a way. I would sooner lose my right arm than lose my brother."

"We were raised that the Jötunns were monsters," Loki reminded him. "Monsters, demons of ice, barbarous fiends who ate the flesh of their own kind, raped women and livestock, took innocent children in the night for the cook-pots in their slovenly kitchens. And you're surprised that when they declared war on us and my father was helpless, my kingdom in danger, and my brother on his way to make a mess of things yet again, that I would simply let them destroy us."

"You tried to destroy Jötunheim _after_ Mjölnir returned to my hand," Thor pointed out. "After I was worthy of being king." Loki canted his head. "Why?"

"It needed to be done," Loki murmured. "Or so I thought."

"But _why?_"

One pale hand convulsed into a fist atop the arm of the chair. "The war was still coming. The war you brought upon us."

Thor waited, but his brother said nothing more. "_And?_"

"And you were coming back!" Loki lurched to his feet and strode to the glass, tension radiating from him. He banged his fist against the window. "You were coming back, the triumphant son, ready to be crowned king. If I had given you the crown then, we would've both been reviled and condemned—I for being a coward, and you for starting the bloody war in the first place."

Golden brows drew together. "What are you talking about?"

Loki sighed and shook his head, letting his forehead rest against the window. "You really are blind. Does anyone remember that _your_stupidity caused the blasted war in the first place? Does anyone remember that _you_ waltzed into Jötunheim and practically slapped Laufey across the face like a fool? Everyone knew you'd been exiled for it, but does anyone _remember?_"

After a moment, Thor shook his head.

His brother chuckled. "Of course they don't. And almost no one remembers that I nearly obliterated the Frost Giants, either. They only remember my so-called betrayal. But if I'd handed you the kingdom just on the cusp of war, they would remember that Thor Odinson brought the slaughter upon them, and they would remember that Loki Odinson abandoned the throne and the responsibilities of the crown when threatened with conflict. Once a coward in Asgard, always a coward. What more proof would they need?" Shoving away from the window, Loki stalked to his cot and sank down upon it. "Don't you understand how your people _are_, Thor?"

They needed to move back to sturdier ground. Thor didn't know what to say to his brother's accusations, his half-mad reasoning that was—disturbingly—starting to sound more reasonable by the moment. What Loki had done was wrong, evil…but why he'd done it made a terrible and twisted sort of sense.

"Why did you make it seem as if Mother hated me?"

Loki's shoulders slumped. He hung his head as if suddenly unutterably weary. "Because you wanted to come home, and I couldn't let you."

"I don't understand."

"You wouldn't simply shut up and stop asking to come home," Loki snapped, lifting his head at last. Pain twisted his features. His hands shook when he ran his fingers through his hair. "You kept pleading…and no matter what I said you wouldn't stop…and I wanted to let you come home. I…I missed you. I hated what I was doing, what I thought needed to be done. I wanted my brother home. But it would have undone everything. I couldn't let you return. I had to make you stop asking. It was the only thing I could think of."

"With all your cleverness, you decided—"

"I told you," Loki broke in, "I'm not clever. Not as clever as all that. Not when my heart is being twisted up and shredded and bled dry. All my cleverness is nothing then. Now please leave me alone. I have a letter to write."

Thor hesitated. "Loki—"

"Get out."

Wondering if he'd just made everything worse by pressing, Thor made his way outside, only to find an ambush waiting for him once he'd returned to pale wintry sunlight and crisp, cold air.

"Thor," Sif said. She hung back as if waiting for him to rebuff her. The Warriors Three stood with her, but one look at their prince's face and they made their excuses, going off to do who knew what. Sif and Thor watched them go before Sif took a step forward. "Thor, I need to speak to you."

He sighed. He wasn't…angry at Sif. Not anymore. But he _was_ exasperated by the fact that she _still_ didn't understand what she'd done wrong in taking Loki's drawings. It had taken his little brother's hands weeks to heal. Not only that, but the assault of _seiðr_ when he'd tried to burst the bonds of his prison had left him exhausted for days after. Perhaps the warrior maiden thought that was a good thing; after all, Loki exhausted couldn't launch any sort of attack on Thor or Asgard. But she didn't understand how much Loki valued those sketches.

"What do you want, Sif?"

She hesitated, then drew a breath and said, "I'm sorry for what I did to Loki. I was only thinking of trying to help you. I didn't realize it would cause such a problem. I knew you wanted the drawings, and didn't think it would interfere with what you're trying to accomplish."

"Do you even know what it is I'm trying to do?"

Unease flashed across her face; she could tell he was still somewhat irritated. "You're trying to rehabilitate Loki."

"I am trying to understand why he did all that he's done these past three years," he corrected her. "The reason for all the lies, the tricks, the betrayals. And I'm beginning to wonder if his is the only betrayal that occurred."

Sif blinked at him, clearly taken aback. "What…what do you mean?"

The words boiled up in him and burst forth. He _was_ angry, he realized. Not at Sif for what she'd done or Loki for what he'd done, not at the Three for their words of discouragement, Tyr for baiting Loki, or his parents for lying to them all for so long. He was angry because _he__didn't' know what was going on_. Things had been happening in the background for years leading up to Thor's exile and Loki's treachery, things he should've seen but hadn't, and he had to ask himself—how much of what he'd missed had contributed to Loki's madness?

"Why did you hit Loki?" Thor demanded, fighting against clenching his fists. He didn't want Sif to think he was that angry at _her_. "Why did you call him _ärgr_? Why did you and the Three come to Midgard to fetch me home after my father banished me? I know the king didn't send you. Neither did my mother. Why did you disobey Loki's order? Why did you and the Three and Heimdall choose the crown prince over your king?"

She stared at him. Her mouth fell further and further open with every word he spoke. When he fell silent, she shook her head. "I don't…I don't understand. You wanted to come home—"

"But the king had ordered me to remain in exile," Thor reminded her sharply. "What made you decide to disobey Loki? What was it that he'd done that induced you five to commit treason to bring me back?"

"We…we suspected he'd let the Frost Giants into Odin's Treasure Room the day of your aborted coronation," Sif said at last.

Thor nodded. Loki had said as much, that they'd suspected him…but he'd claimed it was without proof. "Why?" Thor asked, wondering what Sif would say…wondering why they'd never spoken of this before. Why had no one called Sif and the Three out for bringing Thor back? Only Balder and Hermod have ever questioned it, and Odin had told the twins that it didn't matter now. Well, it mattered to the crown prince.

The warrior maiden fumbled for words. Clearly, Thor thought, this hadn't been what she was expecting from her prince. Finally she said, "Laufey said…" She trailed off at the expression on the other Asgardian's face. "Thor?"

He couldn't believe his ears. "You suspected Loki—your friend, my brother, third son of the king—of treason because one of our enemies said it was so?" He shook his head. "We'd been friends and comrades for centuries, yet you suspected him of—"

"Thor, he was _guilty_," Sif protested. "He _was_ the one who brought the Frost Giants here, twice!"

"But you couldn't have known that when you disobeyed the king's edict," Thor replied softly. He wasn't sure if it bothered him because it clearly bothered Loki, or for another reason. Yes, Loki had been responsible…but that Sif and the others would even suspect him based solely on the word of _Laufey_…Was this evidence of what his little brother had been saying, that their friends actually hated him? "Was there any other reason?"

"I…no," Sif said. "But after everything else he'd done—"

"What had he done?" Thor frowned. What else was being kept from him? Had Loki done something else, committed another crime against Asgard? Surely Odin and Frigga would've told the heir to the throne about it. Surely Thor would've heard about it during Loki's trial.

Sif brushed a wisp of night-dark hair out of her face. "He tricked you into going to Jötunheim in order to ensure your exile—"

"Loki had no way of knowing or even suspecting my father would exile me. I've done even stupider things before," the prince reminded her. "And the only consequence was a strapping or a public reprimand. My brother was right," he added softly, "that my father favored me. He favored me too much. Exile was the only way to undo the damage my own pride had caused."

"Then he took advantage in order to make himself king," Sif insisted.

"And how was Loki to know my father would fall into the Odinsleep when he did, when even my parents were unprepared for it?" Thor demanded. "How was he to know that my mother would make him king and not Tyr? Yes, Tyr was taken out of the line of succession, but he is also older and a better warrior than Loki, and we were headed for war with Jötunheim. How was Loki to know that Víðarr wouldn't come home and be given the throne?"

She threw her hands up, obviously exasperated with him. "What are you saying then, Thor? That Loki has committed no crimes? That he should be released and returned to his former position of glory in the court?"

"I'm saying," he replied in a low, dangerous voice, "that I want to know why you committed treason and betrayed Loki to bring me back."

Stepping back from him, she snapped, "Betrayal, was it? I betrayed no one. Even Heimdall approved of what we did, or he never would have helped us. You were the rightful heir to the throne. It should have been you ruling Asgard while Odin slept."

"That was my mother's decision," he said. "Did it not occur to you that _she_ could have brought me back and chose not to?"

"She doesn't see what Loki is."

_And neither do you_. She didn't say it, but Thor could hear it in her voice. Anger and confusion mingled like poison in his veins at the implied criticism. Maintaining his calm tone, he demanded, "And what is he?"

Some of his anger dissipated when Sif sighed and her shoulders slumped. The sorrow in her face was plain enough to see. "He's a traitor, Thor. He tried to kill you, tried to kill all of us. Innocent Midgardians were hurt in that battle against the Destroyer and during Loki's invasion. He murdered your friend. How can you defend him still?"

Thor sighed, the anger draining completely away. "What he did, misguided though it all was—and he admits that, that what he attempted was wrong—he did it to protect what was precious to him. He was trying to protect Asgard."

"Protect Asgard," Sif echoed. "You'll have to explain to me how attacking Midgard would help our Realm."

He shook his head. "_That_ was…that was to protect someone else."

Thor realized he'd slipped up and said too much when Sif, face intent as a hunter on the scent of prey, said quickly, "Some_one_. Not some_thing_, but some_one_. Who?" The prince opened his mouth. Closed it again. If Loki learned that he'd told Sif anything about what his brother had confided in him…"Was it that woman?" Sif demanded. "Althea?"

A jolt of shock ran through him. "How do you know that name?"

"If people in the palace stopped gossiping, the walls would fall in without all that wind to hold them up," Sif replied. "Is that who Loki was attempting to protect? This Althea? Who was she? Loki's woman? She _was_," the warrior maiden added as she studied Thor's face. "She was Loki's woman. A mortal?" Sif shook her head as if she could scarcely believe it. "Loki with a mortal? Strange, that. And was she the one Thanos murdered?" When he said nothing, she grabbed his arm. "Thor. No one but perhaps the queen sees Loki as you do. There is talk that he's beguiled you with his famed silver tongue, tricked you into believing whatever stories he spins. What does he say to you?"

The prince shook his head. "I haven't his leave to tell you—"

"Then how are the people to know you're not being ensnared in Loki's net? How do your friends know you aren't being lied to—"

"Loki has never been one to employ tears in his mischief," Thor snapped. Sif's eyes widened. With a sigh, Thor added softly, "Have you ever known my brother to weep over anything since reaching manhood, Sif? Have you ever seen him shed a tear—for anyone or anything?" Looking dazed, the warrior maiden shook her head. Thor nodded. "That's right…but he weeps for this woman. What does that tell you?"

Sif groped for words. "That…that there is more here than we know, I think," she said at last. Thor offered a sharp nod. He didn't want to discuss this with anyone except his mother, because there was too much still left murky and unknown to him. Like his brother, he despised not knowing. But Sif wasn't done. "Has he explained why he sent the Destroyer? Why he didn't bring you home?"

After a long moment, Thor nodded. He wondered if Sif would agree with what he was about to say. "He did it to protect Asgard from me."

As he'd expected, she immediately protested. "From _you_? You were no threat to Asgard! You would never hurt our Realm, our people—"

"Not intentionally," the crown prince murmured. His oldest friend—aside from his foster brother—fell silent, baffled. Thor shook his head. He suddenly felt inexpressibly weary. "Don't you remember why I was banished, Sif? I started a war out of selfish pride. _I_ invaded a Realm we had a peace treaty with, slaughtered their warriors in a fight _I_ provoked, then had the audacity to think my father would be pleased. Not only that, but I dragged you and the Three into it, and Loki. I, the crown prince, who should have known better." He shook his head again. "Loki saw what I was, what I was turning into. He feared for the Realm. He knew I was a threat to our people, when I should have been their protector." Fixing his tired blue gaze on Sif, he added, "You know it's true, Sif. I wasn't ready to be king. It would have brought disaster upon us all. Loki knew that…and so do you and the Three."

He could see it in her face—she didn't want to agree, because she was his friend, but she couldn't lie, either. So she said nothing, only watched him with unhappy understanding dawning in her eyes. Sif's honor wouldn't allow her to gloss over the truth or ignore it. Her own courage, her disdain for cowardice, forced her to acknowledge that in this, at least, Loki had been right, and the rest of them had been entirely wrong. Thor hadn't been ready for the kingship, and Loki had tried to prevent what had happened to Tyr from happening to Thor.

"All of it," Sif murmured, voice shaking slightly. "All of it—the Frost Giants in the Treasure Room, his refusal to bring you back, sending the Destroyer—was to protect the Realm?" She shook her head. Thor saw that her knuckles were white as she gripped her staff. "But…but why try to kill us? Why send the Destroyer to stop us? Why not simply send guards to bring us back?"

"He couldn't trust them," Thor replied softly. "If he couldn't trust you four or Heimdall, then he couldn't trust anyone. And he panicked." One gentle hand rested on Sif's slender shoulder. Enough of the coolness between them. Enough fighting. He'd already lost his brother for a time. He didn't want to lose his friend. "You and I have both done stupider things when afraid, haven't we? But Sif…you misunderstand what I'm trying to do. I'm not trying to cure Loki of his madness; I merely wish to know what happened to him. _I_ haven't the power to heal his mind."

Worry sparking in her dark eyes, Sif asked, "Does anyone have that power?"

Thor drew a breath that seemed to burn as it filled his oddly tight chest. "There was one person…but she is dead, and so Loki's sanity is lost, I fear. If anyone could have helped him, it was Althea."

"What will you tell your mother?"

"I don't know, Sif," he confessed, hating himself for not knowing. "I simply don't know."

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_Author's Note__: like I said, I don't hate Sif. I like her. I think her big flaw, though, is her love for Thor and how it makes her behave. You see that in the movie and I'm using it here. And a lot of Loki's reasoning behind what he did in_ Thor _is actually what my beta and I hashed out while we watched the film. We basically sat down and went through the movie (so a 2-hour movie became a 4-hour movie) talking about what Loki seemed to be feeling and thinking based on what we knew of the character from comics, myth, and from interviews with Tom Hiddleston, and just our observations during the film. So I'm going to take a risk and say Loki's reasoning here is canon. Or as close to canon as I can manage, anyway. So, hope you enjoyed this chapter and hope you enjoy the next one. Cheerio (shhh…I'm pretending to be British)!_


	15. Talk of Spoon-Shanking in the Eye

_Author's Note__: here I come to save the day! And I look fabulous! So here's our lucky chapter! That's what I'm calling it, our lucky chapter, because 14 is supposed to be lucky (says so in_ The Hobbit) _and it will protect me from the potential bad luck of 13. I actually believe that 13 is an unlucky number because when I did our high school musical senior year, we did awesome-splendid-great for our first 2 performances and our last performance, but our third show was on Friday the 13th and all kinds of things went wrong. Yeesh. So I'm more of a believer in the whole 13 thing than I used to be._

_Anywho, hope you guys enjoy this chapter. We get some more information regarding Sophie's parentage! Woot! Who's excited? I'm excited. Are you excited?_

_Love you all!_

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Chapter Fourteen  
Talk of Spoon-Shanking in the Eye  
(aka Eat Your Heart Out, Cindy Crawford)

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"And you believe him?"

Thor gazed back at his father nine days after Loki had ordered him from the dungeon, seated in a comfortable chair before the fire in the queen's sitting room. It was Frigga the crown prince had requested to speak to, but both his parents had been waiting for him when he'd been let in (which explained why his mother had put him off for more than a week). While Thor related much of what Loki had told him over the last several weeks—he'd spent so much time with Loki that he hadn't had a chance to report to his mother in some time—Frigga sat stiff and remote at the window. Her slender fingers twisted and knotted a handkerchief as she gazed beyond the glass, listening

But it was Odin the prince was worried about. His father had made no comments, asked no questions, exhibited no emotion at all during Thor's recitation. He simply sat and regarded his second-born throughout the telling of the tale. And now he asked if Thor believed.

"I do," he told his father. "I must."

"Why must you?"

"Because even Loki is not so talented a liar as that," Thor replied. "There is real pain in him. He is mad, yes, and clever—this I know—but the grief in him, Father…it is genuine. He mourns this woman and it has been nearly a year since she was killed. This woman and this child…he loved them. Loved them enough that I _know_ he would not defile their memories by using them to fuel his lies."

Odin sighed and closed his single blue eye. "How is it that this girl could have earned his loyalty after so little time, when we—his family—are considered to be unworthy of it after centuries? He betrayed us; why not this mortal and her child?"

"He believes _we_ betrayed _him_," Thor said softly. Odin straightened in his seat. Frigga, one hand flying to her heart, twisted around to stare with wet eyes at her son. Trying to ignore her—if he let himself be distracted by his mother, her tears, he wouldn't be able to say what was needed, and it _had_ to be said—the prince added, "Father…I was too blind to see it before, but Loki was…for a very long time, Loki has been unhappy here. Long before what occurred on the Bifröst. But this woman made him happy. She understood him in a way we never have."

The king frowned. "Why should he be unhappy here?"

_I remember a shadow…they always wanted_ you. _You were Father's favorite. You never saw how our so-called friends hated me…It was never good enough, for anyone, that I excelled at the things I put my hand to. I had to excel and best_ you _at the things_ you _excelled in…and I never could._

Loki had been unhappy because everyone, including their father, had treated him as second-best to Thor…and Thor had never seen it. Aloud, the crown prince said, "Because he wasn't me, and everyone wanted him to be."

"Thor," Frigga protested softly. "That isn't true. We love Loki. Surely he knows this."

He shook his head. "That isn't what I mean, Mother. Of course we all loved him, but he was never _accepted_ here. You know how people viewed his predilection for sorcery, and the way he fought in the practice ring was frowned upon by the older courtiers as relying too much on trickery. Loki has always been more of a strategist than a soldier, and Thea…she accepted that. She didn't care. That was how she won his loyalty. And…and he needed her."

Odin scoffed. "Loki, needing a mortal? For what?"

Thor drew a breath. He hadn't known how to tell his mother the most important part of Loki's tale thus far. He didn't want to hurt Frigga; all that had happened to Loki had wounded her deeply enough. And if Thor _did_ tell, and his parents didn't believe him…but they needed to know what the Chitauri had done to Loki before he'd ever succumbed to their darkness.

"To keep him from going mad in the hell of the Chitauri dungeons," Thor murmured. He sensed his father's sudden stillness, but his mother's expression was what arrested him. The color drained from her face and her hand drifted up to cover her mouth.

The king leaned forward in his chair, every movement deliberate and slow as he leaned his forearms on his thighs. Single blue eye burning, Odin demanded, "What do you mean? What has he told you?"

Thor realized then than his father had ignored that part of his argument in the past, focusing on what the prince had said about Thea and Sophie. Did he have his Father's attention _now_? Or would Odin dismiss his words again without hearing them?

So Thor told them everything, in terrible detail: how Loki had fallen from the Bifröst, been broken by the fall, and found by the loathsome Chitauri; how they'd bound the worst of his wounds and offered him a place among their lords and officers if he would betray Asgard and help them invade it; how he'd refused, and been cast into the dark pit of their dungeons, half-starved, locked away in the rotting dark of the earth, only to be brought out every so often to be tortured in the hopes of swaying him to the side of the Chitauri. Some of it, Thor had told them before; had they even heard him? When the recitation was ended, Frigga was weeping silently against Odin's shoulder and Odin looked troubled.

"My son," Frigga whispered. Her fingers tangled in her husband's shirt-sleeve. "My son, my child. Odin," Frigga added, lifting her head at last to gaze at her husband with pleading in her eyes. "Thor believes it to be true, and I…you should have heard Loki speak of this girl when I went to him before."

Her husband's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. "You went to see Loki?"

She nodded. "He loved her. I heard him confess it. The pain in his voice…he wasn't lying, Odin. He loved this girl, this Althea. Thor is right, there is more here than we know. Perhaps Loki is not the villain he was thought to be."

Odin shook his head. "We cannot set him lose based on a 'perhaps.' And that doesn't justify all that he did before his fall."

"I'm handling that, as well," Thor replied. "Loki's reasoning thus far is…unwise, but not truly evil."

"My son…your brother tried to kill you," Odin said softly. Frigga bowed her head. The tears coursed silently down her cheeks and her shoulders trembled. Odin gently clasped her slim hands in his own. "I cannot overlook this. The Destroyer broke your neck. I saw it as it happened. What explanation could your brother possibly have that could justify such?"

Thor shook his head. "Father, I am willing to admit that Loki may not have any justification for that single act…but he's had his reasons for everything else thus far. And there was a time on Midgard when he had the chance to slay me and chose instead to spare me. If he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have done such a thing."

"You mean when he dropped you from that mortal flying fortress?"

"When he slid a Chitauri blade between my ribs," Thor corrected his father. "If he had aimed just a little higher, I would have bled out at his feet. He knows the assassin's ways of killing well enough to know that. If he'd wanted me dead, he could have slain me then. But he didn't."

Frowning, the king closed his eye. Wrinkles snarled between his thick white eyebrows as he considered his son's words. Thor waited, counting his heartbeats, to hear what his father would say. He hadn't spoken to Odin specifically to have Loki released. The crown prince wasn't quite ready for that yet, wasn't sure he could trust his brother enough. Loki _was_ mad, after all. But perhaps Odin could heed Thor's words and start trying to mend the breach between himself and his foster son. And surely that could only help Thor with Loki.

At last Odin said, "I will have the entire story before I make any decision. Coax it from him, and bring me the tale, and we shall see what we shall see. I want to know who this girl, Sophie, was. Loki's daughter, perhaps? That would certainly change a few things."

The crown prince shrugged. "I do not see how she could be. She favors him a little—dark hair, fair complexion—but that describes any number of people, including Thea and the man I suspect of having been her husband. And the child is too old. At least…the illusion I saw of her was too old."

And yet there was the fact that Thea didn't speak of having a child thus far in Loki's tale. She didn't _act_ like a woman wed, either. She acted like a maiden unpromised. Was that simply her way, or the way of Midgardian women these days? Or was she in fact not married? But Loki had spoken of Thea having a husband. Perhaps they were estranged? That would explain Coulson speaking of pursuing another lady. Yet Thea spoke of Coulson with affection, as if they were friends. And where did Sophie fit into all of this? Unless Thor was entirely wrong, and Thea wasn't her mother. But then, where had Sophie come from? Was she perhaps one of Thea's students? How had Loki known of Sophie's mother, then?

_Could_ Sophie be Loki's daughter by Thea? She'd had the means of sneaking into his cell. Pain and the threat of death had hounded them both for months upon months. Perhaps they'd succumbed to a moment of reckless desire in the aftermath of some fresh torment. After all, in Loki's drawing, Thea had been obviously pregnant.

But Loki had said Sophie's father was dead, that he'd killed him out of vengeance and justice…and Loki wasn't lying. Somehow Thor knew his brother was being truthful.

"Perhaps the best course in this matter would be to ask Loki," Frigga suggested, wiping her eyes.

Thor hesitated, a jolt of unease churning in his stomach, but Odin rose to his feet. Clearly his father believed the queen's suggestion to be a sound one. Unfortunately, Thor didn't share in that sentiment.

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Loki stared at the king of Asgard for a long moment, then raised a cool eyebrow. Thor kept his face blank, but he wanted to wince. He knew that quirked brow and all it meant. Loki was disgusted by Odin's question, by his very presence here in the dungeons. If Frigga had been there, Thor wouldn't have been worried, but the king had asked his wife to remain behind.

"After all this time, you come to me now…and you come to ask if you have a bastard grandchild somewhere on Midgard?" Loki asked, voice dripping disdain like acid. "Is that all I am now? A means of furthering the family line? Ah, but wait—I'm _not_ of your bloodline. So what could you possibly want with me, All-Father? Do you intend to hunt down any fruit of my loins and cull it from the Realms?" Outrage suffused Odin's weathered face, but before he could snarl a retort, Loki flicked a savage glance at Thor and added, "Or has someone been telling tales?"

The king slashed a hand through the air. "Silence. Why I have come is my own business and none of yours, Loki Odinson."

"I am _not_ your son."

"You will answer my question, the question of your king," Odin growled. Thor flicked a glance at his father's face, crimson with anger and the single blue eye smoldering like a cobalt ember, before looking back at his brother, who seemed wholly unimpressed. "Do I have a grandchild?"

That knife-thin ebony brow quirked higher. "Do you? I'm sure Tyr and Víðarr have bastards aplenty for you to choose from if you want to play Hobby-Horse."

"Loki—" Thor began, exasperated, but fell silent when his father raised a hand to halt his rebuke.

Odin folded his arms across his chest and stared at his foster son for a long moment in chilly silence. Finally he said, "I want to know if you have a child, Loki. Do I have a grandchild by you?"

The green-eyed prince scoffed. "Odinson," he said to Thor, "the All-Father appears to be going senile in his old age. Clearly he has forgotten that I am no child of his blood, and so any child of _mine_ is no kin to _him_."

Thor cheerfully considered strangling his brother for a moment. Fighting for calm, he said, "Loki, we only want to help you. And whatever your current feelings toward our father, he is the king of Asgard, and you will respect him." When Loki only sneered, Thor took a gamble. "What would Thea say about your blatant disrespect of your king?"

The question didn't have the desired effect. Instead of pushing back some of the foster prince's hostility, it only served to twist Loki's thin features into something akin to repugnance. "You _dare_ mention her name in front of _him_," he flicked a dismissive hand at the king, "and then ask how she would rebuke me for my 'wayward behavior,' as if I were an errant child? You wish to know what Thea thought of Odin Borson, king of Asgard?" Focusing on Odin's face, Loki spat, "One of the best women to ever breathe was disgusted by you, by your condemnation of the very thing you yourself wrought. She believed you to be a hypocrite and a liar, a coward and a betrayer."

"Loki!" Thor snapped, because there was the slightest waver to his brother's words. Loki wasn't lying…but he wasn't being entirely truthful, either—the first time he hadn't been so when speaking of his lady in all the time he and Thor had been talking. "You shame yourself."

"I? _You_ are the one who's brought shame here this day, Odinson. How dare you tell _him_ about Thea? About Sophie? How dare you bring him here?" Loki snapped. "Why would you do that? Simply to vex me?"

Thor rolled his eyes. "Of course not. You're acting like a…" He trailed off. He'd been about to say "like a child," but given what Odin was trying to discover, the crown prince knew that wasn't the best choice of words. Letting the insult fade, he instead said, "Loki, Father simply wants to know about Sophie. Can you blame him? Thus far, you've told me nothing about her—where she came from, what she was like. Who her father was."

"None of which you deserve to know," Loki spat. "_He_ certainly does not."

He'd known, Thor thought. He'd _known_ bringing Odin here had been a foolish notion, but his parents had been so adamant. Odin wanted to know about Sophie. Why, the crown prince didn't know; perhaps because the All-Father had some inkling that the child was important in some way. Whatever the reason, Odin had insisted on speaking to his foster son about it.

Unfortunately, he was going about it all wrong. Thor could have told him that. When it came to Thea and Sophie, one had to tiptoe around Loki in order to keep him from lashing out, spewing the venom that had festered in him since their deaths.

"Answer me, Loki Odinson," the king said softly, sharply. "You _will_ answer me. Did you sire a half-mortal child with the Midgardian known as Althea Valerian? Did I ever have a half-mortal grandchild?"

Loki tilted his head back slightly, lips parting in a silent "ah" as if he'd just discovered something. His gaze flicked to the table in front of him, littered with several drawings he'd made since Thor's last visit. When the crown prince stepped closer, he caught a glimpse of a few sheets of paper with Loki's cramped handwriting filling up the whiteness with midnight viridian ink. One pale hand reached out to touch the nearest page. The foster prince bit his lip. In the depths of his gaze, tendrils of electric blue threaded through the deep jade. He closed his eyes and sighed. Then he looked directly into Odin's eyes.

"No," he said firmly. "No, I have no half-mortal bastards. No half-mortal children, alive or dead. I never lay with a mortal. Any woman I lay with, if she gave birth to a child, lays that offspring's paternity at the feet of another. And before you accuse me of lying yet again, hear this: I vow and pledge by the Norns themselves that I have _never_ sired a half-mortal child or lain with a mortal woman. Satisfied, All-Father? Have I at last dashed your hopes of using a child of mine as a tool against me?"

Odin met Loki's coolly condescending gaze with his own inscrutable one. The king nodded once in acknowledgement. Loki sneered. Fixing his elder son with a look that spoke volumes, Odin then turned on his heel and stalked away down the hall, leaving Thor and Loki to their own company. Half-dreading what would happen next and furious with himself, his father, and with his deliberately unhelpful little brother, Thor turned from watching his father go to focus once more on the green-eyed prince.

"Why did you bring him?" It was a whip-crack demand, for all the voice was so quiet.

Wondering if he were about to undo everything he'd managed to accomplish thus far, Thor said, "Mother and Father deserve to know that you did what you did for a reason. An understandable one."

Loki scoffed. Thor felt the disdain in the sound like a fist in the belly. "What do you know of it? Nothing. You have no idea what it is, to know that the two people who are dearest to you in all the Nine Realms are in danger because you couldn't simply _control_ yourself…" Loki trailed off, biting his lip hard enough that it reopened the ragged wound and drew a fresh spill of blood. "My fault," he muttered. "If not for that night…Sophie and Thea would both be alive. We could have gotten away from the Chitauri. I could have healed her…if not for _that night._"

Cautiously, the Asgardian prince asked, "What night, Brother? What night are you talking about? What happened?"

"And why should I tell you anything?" Loki demanded. "You'll simply run off to Odin like a good little boy and tell him all my secrets, like some filthy spy. Why should I bare my soul to you, Odinson?"

"If you don't wish me to tell Father your story, all you need do is say so, and I will keep your confidence," Thor said softly. Dark brows rose at the prince's words. Thor merely shrugged. Time to take another gamble. Hopefully this one would pay off better than the first. "Besides, what else are you going to do? Draw more pictures and then feed the fire sprites with them? It's a shame to burn such beauty as what you can create, Brother. And Thea is very beautiful."

_What I can see of her,_ he added silently.

But Loki was nodding now. "She was," he murmured. His gaze had gone distant, mellowing from that shocking and bizarre blue to pure emerald once more. "So beautiful. So vibrant. She loved life." Loki swallowed audibly. "She shouldn't have died, Thor. Not her."

Strange, he thought, that Loki didn't speak of Sophie, how she had been. Why not? Thor knew his younger brother mourned the child even more than he mourned the woman. So why did he never speak of Sophie's charm or sweetness or aught else? Thor asked him exactly that.

A sneer that was almost a snarl twisted the thin, haggard features. "Have you ever tried chewing shards of broken glass, Brother?"

Thor raised an eyebrow. "I realize you believe me stupid, but surely not _that_ stupid."

"Then if you're so clever, why do you ask me to do something that cuts even deeper than a knife of glass? Why ask me to carve out my own innards? I would rather have Odin cut out my tongue than tell him what he wants to know of my Sophie."

"But you will tell me?" After a moment of silence, Loki nodded. "Why?"

Loki shook his head, as if he couldn't believe Thor's stupidity. "I have already told you—because I want you to know what you've done. I want you to know the true depth of your sins, to _know_ what it was you murdered when you stopped the Chitauri invasion. Thea and Sophie…my _älsklingar_."

"I know you loved them, Brother—"

"You think you're so clever, think you're so wise," Loki muttered. "You know nothing…but I will tell you everything. How the weeks passed, and the months pressed on us with darkness and emptiness. And how the Chitauri left me alone to heal from my wounds at last, but took her again and again, hurting her. I could hear her screaming…but she was brave. So brave, and so strong. She never called out for me, no matter what they did. And those nights…those two reckless nights…they sealed her fate."

_Nights_, Thor thought. _Not "night" this time, but "nights._" Aloud all he said was, "Tell me of these nights, my brother."

Slowly, as if coming to some weighty decision, Loki nodded. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes. Those nights…but I must start at the beginning. That day in the snow. I should never have made that offer…"

.

_Even more than a month after the Chitauri had first hurt her, Thea was different. The smiles she gave Loki were strained around the edges and her cheerful, spontaneous manner took on an edge of mania, as if she were forcing herself to continue acting as if nothing had happened. After that day when she'd broken in his arms and whispered of being hurt while she wept, she didn't speak of it again. When the Chitauri took her several days later, she'd screamed until her voice broke and dwindled to nothing; when she'd been returned, Loki had tended the cuts and burns, but she hadn't said a word about what they'd done. The same thing occurred after the third, fourth, and fifth torture sessions._

_In the meantime, Loki began to heal. Thea had been feeding him, two of the countless "energy bars" she had in her bags, every day. That, in addition to the Chitauri forbearing from ripping him apart again and again, allowed his broken bones to mend. And once they were healed, Loki regained a bit of his magic. Not a great deal—he couldn't escape with it, or cast the illusions Thea could in an attempt to amuse her—but enough that he could access the small space-pocket between dimensions where he stored a few things._

_There were no weapons. Even if there had been, they would have been of no use. But there was a little food, a bedroll, and some medicines. The wooden flute his mother had given him several decades before, for his birthday. The box of boyhood treasures he'd always guarded so jealously. His helmet, a gift from his father when he'd come of age._

_Most precious of all was the last half of a single Golden Apple of_ Iðunn, _preserved with_ seiðr. _Or rather, it would have been precious if it had been a whole Apple, instead of only half. But half of one of the Golden Apples would do Loki little good. It wasn't enough to restore his magic completely or heal him of all that was wrong with his starved, tortured body. But every so often he would pull it out of the little dimensional pocket just to look at it while Thea slept._

_The Apple, sealed in a thin layer of its own shimmering_ seiðr, _glowed faintly in the dark. Its amber light was soft as a golden moonbeam. It illuminated nothing, but the familiar soft ambience was a comfort in the dimness nonetheless. The metallic sheen of the thin skin belied the soft, ivory flesh of the fruit._

_The Golden Apples of_ Iðunn _were powerful indeed. A whole one, eaten by an Asgardian warrior, could heal almost any injury short of death. And even half could heal nearly-fatal wounds in Midgardians…but that was forbidden by Asgardian law, and punishable by death. Giving one of_ Iðunn's _Apples to a non-Asgardian for anything short of marriage was against the law, because it bestowed more power than the law decreed a Midgardian ought to have. There were exceptions, of course…but Loki wouldn't give the Apple to Thea. Her wounds pained her, but they weren't life-threatening. He_ wanted _to give it to her, because he loathed how she would return to him shaking and battered, but unless she was dying, he could not. The green-eyed prince had made his fair share of triage decisions in the past._

_And Loki wouldn't eat it himself. The Apple's magic didn't work so strongly on Asgardians, their bodies already suffused with the fruit's power. It would have no effect, save to briefly assuage some of his hunger and pain._

_No, he wouldn't waste it. He would only look at it, find comfort in its light, and try to remember home without the agony that always tore at his chest when he thought of his brothers, his mother, his father. Had they given him up for dead by now? Had they mourned the treasonous foundling?_

_A soft rustling came from beyond the stones. Loki's attention sharpened at the sound. He pushed the Golden Apple back into its place between Realms and focused on the present, shoving the past away where it lacked the power to tear him with its claws._

_"Loki," Thea called from the other side of the wall. She stifled a yawn as she poked her head through the hole. Her hair snagged on the sharp edges of the stone and she winced. Without thinking about it, Loki reached out and freed the trapped strands. Thea's hair was dirty, rough with the grit from her cell, but her tresses were still like silk compared to the hard, unforgiving stone Loki had been sleeping on until recently. "Morning," she added, though neither of them knew if it were morning or night on the Chitauri home-world, or even if the planet they were trapped on had a sun. Loki hadn't seen any hint of sunlight in the days he'd lain beneath the stars, bleeding out into the dust._

_He canted his head. "Good morning." He indicated the plate of gray mush the Chitauri had left him. Hers was no doubt waiting in her cell, beyond where he could see."Breakfast."_

_She made a face, visible by the glow of the flashlight. "Mmm, yum. Slop. Great. So what should it be today? Any requests?"_

_"Waffles," Loki replied with a small smile. "Whipped cream, strawberries, powdered sugar—if it pleases the lady."_

_Thea groaned. "Oh, my gosh, you're making me hungry. Or fat. I'm not sure which. I think I could get fat thinking about waffles if I tried hard enough. Okay, hang on, back in a sec." She scuttled back into the dimness of her own cell and came back with her plate of mush and the small, spoon-like scoop the Chitauri gave them to eat it. "Okay, waffles with whipped cream, strawberries, and powdered sugar coming up." She crossed her eyes, wrinkled her nose, and the next moment the delicious aroma of fresh waffles, sweet summer strawberries, and vanilla sugar wafted up from the plates. She picked up her spoon. "Viva la resistance."_

_It was another of their little pieces of defiance toward their captors. The Chitauri gave them slime, hoping to break them with hunger to the point that the prisoners would willingly lick up every drop of the scummy food to get some nourishment. Thea used her abilities to make the food taste like something else. Originally she'd made it_ look _like something else as well, but after the first torture session, it had been so difficult to incorporate their actual physical bodies eating into the threads of the illusions that Loki had told her just to focus on the taste and conserve her strength._

_Loki took a spoonful of the slop and closed his eyes. He knew what the filth ought to taste like, but the sweetness flooding his tongue drowned out the memory. Sweet, fresh strawberries soaked in their own juice. Vanilla sugar and frothy cream whipped into a cloud. The sweet, bready waffles doused in both with just a touch of the white powdered sugar Midgardians put on such things. He made an appreciative sound._

_"Delicious," he said. She beamed, but as before, there was strain around the edges of her smile. Loki hid a frown. Where was his Thea, his carefree girl who didn't give a toss what the enemy would do so long as she could be with him? "Where shall we go today?"_

_"We could go skydiving again," she suggested softly, taking another spoonful of her own meal. "Or horseback riding. I want to go nuts today. Or…or we could maybe build a snowman." She flicked her eyes up at him, then back to her plate. "I know snow isn't really your thing, but—"_

_"No, no," Loki hastened to assure her. "By all means, let us build this…snowman." What in all the Nine Realms was a snowman? Snow forts, he had heard of. He'd always been good at building the things for Thor during their boyhood. Even Tyr hadn't been able to build a better one. And he knew of snowball fights; they were the reason snow forts were necessary. But he'd never heard of a snowman._

_Thea grinned at him, a ghost of her old mischief sparkling in her eyes. "We could go to Jötunheim and do it." Loki frowned. Thea bit her lip, looking rather like an imp bent on temptation. "Come on. We could build a really ugly one on Laufey's throne. Pay him back for being such a douche cookie."_

_Like most of her insults, he didn't know what a "douche cookie" was, but the thought of humiliating Laufey, even in such a petty and unknown way, kindled his own inner trickster. "You're a little imp—you know that, don't you?"_

_She winked. "My horns are adorable. See, look?" For a brief moment, a pair of delicate red horns poked through Thea's hair. Loki chuckled, and the horns disappeared. "I'm not feeling very horny right now, though…wait." She scrunched her face and dropped it into her hands. "Not what I meant. Totally not what I meant. That did_ not _come out right. I didn't mean it like that."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "Was there some Midgardian way to take that?"_

_"I shouldn't have used the word 'horny.' Midgardians don't mean that word the way Asgardians do."_

_"What does it mean?"_

_Her head shot up and she stared at him in mortification. "You can't ask me what 'horny' means. You can't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because!" She shoveled spoonfuls of waffle-flavored gruel into her mouth and swallowed. Loki could see the delightful color spreading through her cheeks—which she somehow cleaned every day, leaving her a bit less bedraggled than the prince. When Loki only looked at her expectantly, she sighed. The warmth of her breath reached Loki's bare forearm; the hair prickled. His fingers twitched. "Because you're hot," Thea added, as if that explained everything. Loki's brow rose higher. He simply waited. Eventually she sighed and said, "'Horny' means 'sexually aroused.' There? Happy?"_

_Loki chuckled. "You needn't be embarrassed."_

_Thea gave an unladylike snort. "Says you. You're so smooth."_

_"Like butter," he agreed._

_"Butter with no cow hairs in it?" She asked impudently. "Or butter_ with _cow hairs in it?"_

_He shot her a mock scowl. She'd recently read him a book where a boy compared the grace of a girl of his acquaintance to "butter with no cow hairs in it." Loki had been disgusted on behalf of his gender. "Which do you think?"_

_She grinned. "I think if you were fresh butter, you could pull off having cow hairs in all your smooth, creamy, buttery-ness. If anyone could pull off having cow hairs in their butter-selves, it would be you. You could be cow-hair-flavored butter and people would totally buy you."_

_"Would they indeed?" Loki shook his head, losing the battle against the urge to smile. "You're mad, you know."_

_"Yeah, but you like me better this way."_

_"I do. Shall we?" Food finished—they weren't given much—Loki held out his hand to her. Thea settled her head on one arm and took his proffered hand. With a smile from her, and that familiar tingling warmth at the nape of his neck, the illusion settled over them both._

.

Flmph!

_Snow hit Loki in the chest, spattering clean and white against his green shirt, his open black coat, and his dark trousers. He could feel the meltwater trickling over his skin, cleansing the grit and grime of his prison cell. If only…_

_Thea whooped and pelted him with another snowball. They'd never gotten around to building that snowman. He'd distracted her by instigating this wintry war. It had simply been too great a temptation to resist. She'd trusted him so foolishly, like a lamb with a wolf, and he'd had to scoop up some of the soft, cold snow—as soft and cold as real snow, yet it didn't bite his fingers with its bitter chill—and throw it at her. His warrior's aim had been true._

_He'd hit her in the back of the neck. Her squeal of happy outrage had been priceless._

_Only now…he appeared to be losing. He suspected her of changing the landscape of the illusion, giving herself more ammunition and slowly wearing away his own defenses and resources. It might have been cheating, but it was also something he might've done._

_"I've got you in my crosshairs, Green Eyes!" Thea cried, launching another missile. It smacked Loki in the shoulder with a muffled_whumph. _Loki hurled his own snowball and somehow missed._

_"Are you cheating?" He demanded, laughing, as he threw another snowball._

_Thea laughed and scrambled to avoid the "ball of frigid doom," as she'd named it. "Maybe! Why? Having trouble?" She initiated another volley. Loki dodged behind a tree as snowballs whizzed past, wetting the fringes of his hair. When he was certain the coast was clear, he pitched his own missile. Thea squealed. "Gah, it went down my shirt!"_

_Laughing still, Loki stepped out from behind the tree…and took a very loosely-packed snowball in the face. He spat crisp, clean snow out of his mouth. The meltwater on his tongue was sharp and delicious and cold. He folded his arms and looked at the mortal, who was leaning against the snow bank, laughing herself silly. There was indeed a patch of wetness running down the front of her indigo sweater._

_"Enjoying yourself_, suetyng?_" Loki asked, then could have bitten his tongue. It was the fifth time in the last month the endearment had slipped off his tongue. He couldn't fathom_ why. _He'd tried to swallow it back, but it kept spilling out. And whenever it did, he was forcibly reminded of the time Thea had pressed her lips to his jaw after he'd doctored her wounds. Even now, the flesh where she'd kissed him tingled pleasantly. It was almost as if…but no. He couldn't even consider the idea. Not now._

_She waved to him, still laughing too hard to form words. Clearly having "a blast," as she often put it. Loki strode to her and threw himself down on the snow beside her. Thanks to the rules of this newest illusionary world, the snow would melt if Thea wanted it to melt. Otherwise it remained sharp and pristine. And since she didn't want them to get frostbite from being out in the cold, they didn't. It was the perfect snowy day—the sun glowing behind a thin bank of dove-gray clouds, making the snowflakes sparkle faintly, and with a cheerful little breeze that tickled Loki's cheeks and threaded through his hair—without any of the drawbacks. It was cold, of course, but pleasantly so._

_"You know what I want?" Thea said. Loki raised an eyebrow at her. "I want hot chocolate. Hot chocolate is like ambrosia, except in liquid form, and it won't make you immortal. It should, though. It should give you super powers. Like, one sip gives you x-ray vision, and the next sip lets you fly. Except then I'd smack into skyscrapers because I can't steer for Skittles. Great, now I want ice cream with Skittles in it._

_"Oh, my gosh!" She suddenly bolted upright. "I just had a stroke of genius. Absolute and utter genius. Light bulb! Light bulb in my brain! It's glowing and everything!" She turned to Loki with shining eyes and for the first time he saw excitement in her without any of the strain he'd grown accustomed to. "Oh, my gosh! You know what would be cool? You know what would be freaking epic? I'm serious, totally epic. Snowballs that taste like Skittles! And we could practice hitting each other in the face with them. It would be like being happy-smacked with a candy rainbow."_

_Loki stared at her for a long minute in utter silence. Thea blinked. Loki's brows rose slowly toward his hairline as he continued to look at her, thinking too many things to fully register. For this moment, she was back, vivid and effervescent and smiling without shadow. He felt the corners of his mouth curl into a broad grin._

_"What?" Thea asked. "What's so funny?"_

_Without thinking about it, without really considering consequences or reasons why it was foolish or even really pondering_ why _he would do such a thing in the first place, Loki reached out and grabbed Thea, crushing her against him. She yelped, startled, before relaxing against him. Her head fell comfortably to his shoulder. She sighed, that same contented sigh as the first time—the only time—they'd embraced. Her arms slowly came around him and she settled completely and comfortably into his arms._

_"What was that for?" She asked, pressing her face into his shoulder. She was warm, even through his shirt and coat. Her fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, brushing his skin as lightly as snowflakes falling._

_"You brilliant girl," Loki murmured. "You brave, brilliant, delightful girl."_

_"You like the idea of me hitting you in the face with a candy-flavored snowball, don't you?" He could hear the laughter humming beneath the words and chuckled. "Masochist."_

_After a second's hesitation, Loki let his cheek rest against the top of her head. Mingling with the floral scent that always clung to her in the world of her mirages, he smelled the sweet chill of frost and winter winds—softer and lighter than the heavy bite of northern darkness that saturated the air of Jötunheim. "You may hit me in the face with as many snowballs as you like if it will make you happy, Thea."_

_She laughed. "Never had a guy tell me that before. I like your pickup lines." She tilted her head back to gaze up at the pearl-gray sky. Thanks to her gift, the pale sun peaked through a break in the clouds. "It should be snowing."_

_"Oh?"_

_A decisive nod, and Thea wrinkled her nose and crossed her eyes. She'd told him once it was a habit she'd picked up as a child during practice. She didn't_ need _to do it to make her powers work, but when creating what she called a "snap-illusion," she made that face. She'd seen something like it on a special type of Midgardian play called a television show about a woman with magical powers._

_As she uncrossed her eyes, tiny flecks of whiteness began falling from the sky. She grinned and stuck out her tongue to catch one of the snowflakes. It landed on the tip of her tongue and stayed for almost a minute before melting. The snow wasn't cold, but it made that delightful hush falling snow always did in the depths of winter._

In Thea's worlds, _Loki thought_, the laws of physics needn't apply.

_"We'll save me smacking you around with snowballs like a drunken North Pole dominatrix until after we get something hot. Do you want hot chocolate? Or am I slurping my chocolate-crack all by my lonesies?"_

_"Is our intention to become…what was the phrase you used that one time…chocolate wasted?"_

_Thea laughed. "Oh, my gosh, I'm gonna get_ so _chocolate wasted! It's like getting high off sugar. Sugar is my anti-drug. It's my crack. It's like a G-rated meth party in my mouth." She paused for a moment. "Meth party in my mouth. Meth party in my…meth party…meth…It sounds like I'm lisping…except if I was, I'd be saying 'mess party in my mouse.' Which makes no sense. Gah, stupid English language. Anyway, time to get chocolate wasted! Care to join me?"_

_"Do you truly need to ask?" Loki replied with a smile._

_He had tried the Midgardian drink a few times in Thea's memories; it had been delicious. And while the cold wasn't oppressive, something hot to drink would be pleasant. A hefty clay Asgardian mug appeared in his hand. In the mug, a dozen tiny white things—Midgardians called them "marshmallows"—floated in his hot chocolate._

_Loki glanced at Thea's mug. Hers was heaped with marshmallows, whipped cream, a thinly drizzled web of chocolate sauce, and a dusting of cinnamon. Chocolate-wasted, indeed. Steam wafted off the top. Even as he watched, the cream began to melt. Thea put the mug to her lips and gulped some of the drink down. When she took the mug away, Loki laughed; whipped cream decorated her upper lip. She gave him a haughty look._

_"Bite me, Green Eyes," she said. "You wish you looked as beautiful as I do with a milk mustache." Loki grinned and shook his head, sipping his drink. "I can hear you thinking about my splendid self over there," Thea added. "Go ahead, worship the love goddess. She thanks you."_

_"Do you make a habit of referring to yourself in the third person?"_

_"Don't be jealous of my Bohemian chic self-narration. You have other gifts, like that dimple in your cheek." She poked him lightly just above the spot where she'd kissed him two months before. "See? See? There it is. It comes out when you smile. I can see it," she added in a sing-song voice. "You can't hide it from me. I know you're trying to keep your stud status on the down-low, but it's not working."_

_"Well, then, I must try harder."_

_"You give that a shot; lemme know if it works." Then she sighed, and some of the shine faded from her smile. The shadows returned to her eyes._

_Wondering if he were making a mistake, Loki murmured, "Thea…what is it?"_

_She didn't pretend not to know what he meant. She didn't even bat an eyelash at the question. She set her mug on a shelf of air—since none of it was real, she could manipulate the strands of the world in_ any _way she chose—and leaned back against the snow bank. Her lashes drifted down to make feathery black crescents against her cheeks._

_"I miss my family," she murmured. "I miss my mom and Phil and my brothers and sisters and the professor and my coworkers and…" Her voice trembled, then firmed as she continued, "And I miss going out."_

_He set his own mug on a small drift of snow near his feet and leaned toward her, elbows on his knees. "Going out? What do you mean?"_

_"Like…I don't know. Like dancing. We used to have dances at the school every month. I miss those. And I missed trick-or-treating this year—I always go with my younger brothers, they're only thirteen and fifteen, and it's a good excuse to snag free candy, you know?—and I'm probably going to miss Thanksgiving. I mean, that's not going out, but it's still kind of a party, sort of. I just miss…I don't know. It's just kind of wearing on me. I'm sorry if I'm screwing things up."_

_Loki laced his fingers together and brought them up to his lips as he considered Thea's words. At last, he murmured, "You have many friends on Midgard. A family who loves you. It is understandable that you miss them."_

_"I don't, actually," came the puzzling reply. "Have a lot of friends, I mean. Not real friends. Most of us didn't stick around at the school post-graduation. Just me and Marie. Everyone else did their own thing. You're actually one of my only friends. I'm okay with that, though. You're like, my favorite person in the history of ever. It's not even that I miss friends. I miss_ people. _You know? I don't even need to talk to anyone. I'd just like to be in a crowd every now and again. Lose myself in a crowd at a dance with a lot of music and voices and…I don't know."_

_"Why have you said nothing of this before?"_

_She shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to be in a situation like that, even if it_ was _just an illusion. I don't know if you'd like Midgardian music—modern Midgardian music, I mean—and I_ know _you don't like crowds. And what would you do while I was busy making a happy little goofball of myself?"_

_He had no idea what possessed him to say it, but he found the words tripping off his tongue before they'd even fully registered in his mind. "I could dance with you."_

_Her mouth fell open._

_With a casual shrug, he added, "I would be the envy of all the illusionary Midgardians at the ball. No one else would have so fair a companion as I. We can do it now, if you wish. Take us to one of these dances."_

_Thea swallowed. He could see the temptation in her eyes. Inwardly, Loki wanted to bash his head against a tree. She was right—he_didn't _like crowds. And to be trapped in a room full of sweaty, barbarous Midgardians while the rubbish that passed for music in that Realm these days pulsed through the room…it was almost unbearable to even think about._

_But it would make Thea happy. He couldn't stand how melancholy she'd become since the Chitauri had begun routinely torturing her. He wanted her happiness. If he had to chew off his own arm to get it for her, he would._

_"You'll need different clothes," she murmured hesitantly. Loki inclined his head to her, silent permission for her to outfit him with the proper garments. Thea closed her eyes and frowned. In a matter of a few seconds, the cold from the snowy landscape faded into comfortable spring coolness. The weight of his coat vanished._

_Loki glanced down at himself and saw that he now wore crisply ironed black Midgardian trousers, an emerald belt-like contrivance, an ironed white shirt with black buttons down the front, and a light but oddly-cut black coat that was obviously meant to be worn open. His collar felt a bit tighter than he was used to. Pale fingers stole up to touch his throat and encountered a closed collar tied with a stiff piece of fabric shaped like two dull arrowheads facing each other, point to point. He raised an eyebrow at Thea._

_"It's called a tux," she replied, smiling a little. "That thing around your neck is a bowtie." She bit her lip. "You look…"_

_"Foolish?" He offered in a forcedly light tone. But she shook her head._

_"You look wonderful," the girl murmured. Her silver-blue eyes kindled with open admiration. A strange warmth spread through Loki's chest and belly. "Very dashing. I wish all my dates looked as good as you do."_

_Rising to his feet, he offered her a hand. "Did you have many suitors on Midgard?" The thought that she might have gave him pain for some reason._

_Thea shook her head as she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. "Nothing serious. Surprisingly, people don't want to date girls who can waltz through their brains for some reason. And a lot of the toy-soldier boys back home were intimidated by my classic Grecian beauty and the razor-steel trap of my genius brain. Can't really blame them. It's tough dating perfection."_

_"I would imagine so," he replied with a smile._

_"There was this one guy, though, Theoric—he was kinda hot. I thought he was nice…but I was wrong. Total zombie douche-bag. I wonder if he ever went back to the radioactive ooze he schlurped his way out of."_

_"Schlurped?" Loki echoed._

_"Yeah, schlurped. Like, he was a walking bag of rat guts and toxic waste that sludged around instead of actually taking steps with actual bipedal feet because he was such a creeper. I don't even think he had toes. They were probably stumpy, deformed squid tentacles."_

_"You really don't like him."_

_She offered him a poisonously sweet smile. "No, I really don't. I have no respect for a guy who dates a girl just so he can get her panties off, then cheats on her when she won't put out. Guys like that should be spoon-shanked in the eye. Unless they have pretty eyes. Then you should geld them with cheese graters."_

_Normally any male with a healthy appreciation for_ being _male and a healthy respect for a woman's wrath would have winced at such a threat to masculine apparatus. However, Loki's thoughts had snagged on the first part of Thea's statement. In a voice trembling with a dark fury he could barely understand himself, he demanded, "This boy, this…_wretch_…betrayed your trust and slept with another woman simply because you wouldn't let him take you to his bed?"_

_"Pretty much. I haven't had any really positive experiences with guys in my life except my teachers, my brothers, and Phil."_

_The name suddenly scraped at Loki's temper. Still, he managed to keep his voice relatively neutral when he asked, "And what was so special about Phil?"_

_Thea shrugged. "He's just…he's a decent guy. You know? Like you. Sweet. Totally romantic. I've known him for, like, ever. My mom loves him. Everyone in my family loves him."_

_"Do_ you _love him?" Loki asked quietly._

_She laughed. "Well, yeah. Of course. We're like this." She held up her middle and index finger, twined around each other for visual effect. A sharp, prickling sting lanced behind Loki's breastbone. "So," Thea continued, not noticing, "we going dancing or what?"_

_"Are you dressed for it?" Loki asked, feigning nonchalance. Yet all he could think of was Thea's casual affirmation that she loved this Midgardian, this…Phil._

_Glancing down at herself, she laughed. "Not that I couldn't totally rock the dance floor with my smexy, smexy jeans and my Frosty the Snowman sweater—because I could, you know. I totally could. But it would start a trend, a brilliant but terrible trend that would slaughter couture dress sales and leave fashion designers crying in the gutters of Paris and drowning themselves in buckets of overpriced wine. And it would make me too beautiful. Men would fling themselves at my feet, begging to touch the hem of my sweater, and writing poetry comparing me to Helen of Troy."_

_Loki raised an eyebrow and Thea grinned puckishly._

_"Oh, you know it's true. The only reason you haven't fallen down at my feet, struck by a swoon of adoration, is because you're an alien with a natural resistance to my sweater's nefarious mind control."_

_"Indeed?"_

_"Yep. So I'll try this instead." Closing her eyes, Thea drew a deep breath. Leaning her head back as far as it would go, she raised her hands to her face and slowly smoothed them over the contours of her features before flicking them toward the ground. The snow around her feet melted away, leaving soft green grass._

_Her jeans and sweater faded, to be replaced with a long, slim gown that Loki thought at first to be of ebony silk…but when Thea glanced down at herself, twisting and turning to admire the swish and sway of her shin-length skirt, Loki noticed an emerald sheen to the fabric. Modest in cut, it still emphasized every soft curve of her body._

_Thea's hair no longer hung down her back in a thick braid, either. Instead it cascaded down around her shoulders in elegantly styled curls burnished copper, bronze, auburn, and chestnut by the sun. A touch of makeup to her lips made them gleam, and her eyes seemed suddenly more vibrant and almost impossibly blue, her lashes longer and thicker somehow._

_Her feet, however, were bare._

_"Oops," she mumbled, and snapped her fingers. A pair of slim, midnight jade heels appeared on her feet, adding a good two inches to her height. A grin blossomed across her face. "Booyacashah. Love goddess, version two-point-oh. Eat your heart out, Cindy Crawford. Who's the supermodel now? And I'm so_ tall. _Yay-uh!"_

_"You look beautiful," Loki blurted. Thea stopped preening to herself and stared at him, eyes wide in obvious astonishment. He cleared his throat and bowed to her. "My lady…if you would honor me by allowing me to escort you?"_

_Soft rose color spread across her freckled cheeks and she tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. "I'd love that," she replied. When he offered his hand, she took it. "Thank you."_

_"Shall we?"_

_And in moments, they were at the familiar ballroom of the Disneyland hotel, music already echoing through the vaulted space. Dozens of mirages of people murmured and moved in various parts of the ballroom, but Loki only looked at Thea. She smiled at him as a warm tingle spread down the back of his neck. He knew then what to do as a waltz began to play. Leading her into the formation, they began to dance._

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_Author's Note__: so, what do you guys think? Hope you enjoyed! Love you all! Oh, and there's a picture of Loki in a tuxedo online somewhere. I saw it! It's what gave me the idea for him being in a tux in this last scene instead of his Asgardian clothes. So you should go find it!_


	16. I've Just Seen a Face

_Author's Note__: here we are with the next chapter, and just in time for the weekend! I hope you all enjoy it. I think you will. Let me know what you think, okay? Huggles!_

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Chapter Fifteen  
I've Just Seen a Face

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_He'd been a fool to suggest this, Loki realized as Thea stepped closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. They had waltzed, done other Midgardian dances she'd learned over the course of her life and taught the Asgardian prince in mere moments thanks to her gift. In the same way, he'd taught her many of the dances of the Æsir. But now they were engaged in something called "a slow dance."_

_Loki called it torture. With the music humming softly from nowhere, the amber light gilding everything, it was nothing but a new form of torment. He didn't wish to examine too closely why he felt that way._

_"Thank you for this," Thea whispered. Her head was a soft weight on his shoulder; her hand lay like a caught butterfly in his. He could feel her breath, warm and shushing against his neck. "I love slow dancing."_

_"You're welcome," the prince murmured. The fragrance of althea, the flower for which she'd been named, was sweet on her hair. He pressed his jaw lightly against her temple. Tension thrummed through his body at her nearness. He could almost taste the warmth of her. If he bent his head at just the right angle, he could press his lips against her skin, as she had done a little more than a month ago. "It was simple enough, and it made you happy, did it not?"_

_Thea laughed softly. "You're just…I love you, Loki. You're perfect."_

_Three quick, electric pulses shot through his chest at her words. He swallowed the strange, excruciating pleasure the words sent lancing through him and offered a weak chuckle. "Hardly perfect, but thank you. It is nice to know someone thinks so highly of me." For some reason, she sighed, a deep breath that expelled like a whisper of sorrow from her lips. Loki frowned. "What's wrong, Thea?"_

_She made a small "hmmm" noise. Lifting her head from his shoulder—it felt oddly cold without that warm weight—she looked up at him, blue-gray eyes shadowed. "Well…see, the thing is, I was just thinking about how…how I did something dumb. Really dumb."_

_Loki raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah, and see…I don't normally do this kind of dumb thing. I don't normally do dumb things, period. I'm like, walking perfection; perfection doesn't do dumb. But my aura of numinous awesome slipped just a notch and I did something super-stupid."_

_"What did you do?"_

_"I messed up something really great that I have with this guy that I like." She dropped her gaze to the bowtie around his neck, as if she couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore. "He's just…we were great friends. At least I thought we were. But I messed things up and if he ever finds out, it will ruin everything. We won't be friends anymore because everything will be so awkward since he doesn't feel the same way about me. You know?" Thea bit her lip as Loki's heart knifed sideways in his chest._

He doesn't feel the same way about me…_Somehow he managed to swallow the lump that had inexplicably lodged in his throat. She was talking about Phil, of course. The family friend she loved…she was in love with him. Of course she was. Thea loved so many people. Her heart was vast. And the way she spoke of him…of course she was in love with Phil._

_Clearing his throat, he asked, "How do you know he does not share your feelings?"_

_She shrugged. "He's a bit distant when we're in close quarters. I mean, we do all sorts of things together, have fun and stuff, but he doesn't…he just doesn't give off the love-me vibe. He had a rough life, so maybe that's it. I adore him to pieces—like, love him into confetti bits with sparkles and crystal-sprinkles and exploding cake and everything—but I think he thinks of me more as a kid. You know, a great friend, but that's it. I don't think he realizes how much I…how much I care about him."_

_"Then he is a fool," Loki managed to mutter. "Whoever he is." As if he didn't know who she meant. When Thea just looked at him, he shrugged. "There is much of the child in you, of course—it is part of your charm, and one of the things I adore about you—but you are no child, Althea. Anyone who saw you now would know you are a woman. You deserve to be treated as such by a man you care for."_

_A smile tugged at her lips, which gleamed under the glittering golden ambience of the chandelier overhead. "A fool, huh?"_

_Loki nodded. He wanted to find Phil and deliver the thrashing the mortal idiot so richly deserved for making Thea feel, even for a moment, unworthy of his attentions. What did a mere mortal know of her charm, her sweetness, her kindness? What did a mortal know of—_

_"I don't think you're a fool, Loki," Thea said gently, yanking him from his growing irritation with Phil. "I think you're pretty smart…most of the time."_

_He frowned. "Thank you, I think…" His eyes snapped wide as he stared down at her, every word she'd just uttered crashing around inside his skull, shattering his thoughts and stealing his voice. His treacherous heart lurched toward her in his breast. Something icy and cold, something that lanced like a knife, something that tasted a bit like fear, throbbed through him as her meaning clarified in his mind. He shook his head. "Thea…Thea, you do not mean…"_

_Extricating herself from him, she dropped her eyes to the floor. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Sorry. That was dumb of me to say. I mean, it's true, you're smart. Really smart. I just…I shouldn't have said…I'm sorry." She turned, ready to flee._

_No. No, he couldn't let her leave. Not when she…not when he…_

_His hand shot out and gripped her fragile wrist. Her skin was exquisitely soft beneath his fingers as she turned back to him, wide-eyed and trembling, fearful as a doe caught in a hunter's sights. Loki stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away. Her chin quavered. Wetness gleamed in her eyes, turning them to liquid sapphires._

_Carefully, as if handling something infinitely precious, Loki drew her back to him._

_"Thea…" Her name felt strange on his tongue, like the words to a song. He could feel the warmth emanating from her skin as he pulled her close. The sweet scent of her perfume taunted him. "Thea…you cannot mean…you cannot—"_

_"I love you," she blurted, then clapped a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as color flooded her face, turning her cheeks a charming shade of pink. "Crap. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I'm like a wide-mouthed frog, for crying out loud. Where's a snake when I need one? Someone just tie me up with duct tape and leave me to be abducted by genetically enhanced alien-robots operated by brain-squids, please. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just…now everything's ruined because it'll be totally awkward, I'm sorry. I just need to go die in a ditch now. I'll just take my jelly beans and go die. Thank you for a wonderful evening, but I need to put myself out of my misery before—"_

_Loki kissed her._

_Her lips were shockingly soft beneath his. She gasped at the sudden contact, then melted into his arms with a sigh. He pulled her tight to him; his hands glided over the smooth silk of her dress as they settled at her waist, curving around the delicate edges of her hips. His skin thrilled at her touch when her slim hands brushed along the sides of his neck before settling again his jaw, her fingers tunneling into his hair. Gently, gently, he moved his mouth over hers, exploring the sweetness of her mouth. Heat sliced through him, a tangible fire sweeping through his veins as Thea's lips molded to his, as their breath mingled, as she pressed close to him. Loki felt almost as if he were drowning in the heady sensations of softness, sweetness, warmth, perfection._

_When he pulled back just a breath to gauge her reaction, she blinked at him a bit dazedly. A thrill of fresh heat shuddered through him at the glassy-eyed look of wonder on her face. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Loki…"_

_"Thea," he whispered, needing to know, needing to be certain, "Thea, if you do not want this, then—"_

_"Ohmigawd, you paranoid schizophrenic, just shut up and kiss me," she ordered, and drew him back to her for another kiss._

.

"Loki…" Thor didn't want to shatter the brief shade of happiness that had swept across his brother's face…but something had to be said. "She was another man's wife. You kissed another man's wife."

His brother sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "Brother, your powers of deductive reasoning astound me."

The crown prince narrowed his eyes. "I have listened to everything you have told me, I needn't stand for your mock—"

"If you don't believe me," Loki snapped, "then why not search for proof? Hmmm?" His gaze turned caustic when he opened his eyes to glare at his foster brother. "Speak to Heimdall."

"Heimdall cannot even glimpse the Chitauri. You know that."

Loki sighed again. "One hopes, Brother, that the All-Father is a bit more creative than you are. He has already considered ways to discover if what I say is true or not."

Thor shook his head. "It isn't a question of belief, Brother. I believe you. But half the time you speak in riddles and will not give me straight answers. Such as with Coulson. Why do you constantly dance around the fact that you killed him? You refuse to admit to it; why?"

Green eyes narrowed as Loki considered his elder brother. Thor raised an eyebrow. Why was Loki looking at him that way? As if trying to gauge whether Thor was ready for something of extreme importance?

"Why do I 'dance around' it,' as you say?" Loki's voice softened and he braced his body as if he expected Thor to…almost as if he expected Thor to hit him. "I will tell you, then, since you wish to know, but if you berate me for the truth, do not expect it to be given to you again." When the crown prince nodded, Loki sighed. "I will tell you why I refuse to admit to killing him—because I didn't."

Several heartbeats of silence passed before Thor said too softly, "I saw you murder him."

"Are you certain you saw what you thought you saw?"

"I watched you stab him through the heart with the Chitauri staff. You killed him. I _saw_you."

Loki looked him dead in the eyes and said, "No. You didn't."

"So you are telling me…what? That Coulson is still alive?" Thor demanded.

"No," his brother replied softly. "No, Coulson is dead…but I was not the one who killed him. Now go away. I have given you enough of my soul for today, I think."

"Loki—"

"I will say no more," he growled. "Begone."

.

Upon leaving the dungeons, the crown prince was summoned to the king's informal receiving room. To Thor's surprise, both Heimdall and Víðarr were there, as well as the king and queen. Odin bade them all sit down. Surreptitiously, Thor glanced at his younger brother.

Out of all of them, Víðarr was the most like Loki in personality, though Tyr inexplicably looked a great deal like the fostered prince. Víðarr was built like Thor—a veritable grizzly bear—but with Loki's charm and quick, clever tricks. Unlike Loki, he had Balder and Hermod's good-natured ability to laugh at everyone and everything, including himself. The only one of Frigga's sons to bear the same bronze tresses, he was also the only of the royal family in anything resembling a good mood these days—thanks to his beautiful, new, young wife. Like Frigga, however, Víðarr wore somber clothes these days, to show his sorrow for his foster brother.

"The queen and I have counseled together today, and we have come to a decision," Odin informed his two sons and the Asgardian Gatekeeper. "We require proof of the existence of a Midgardian woman—"

"Althea?" Víðarr interjected. "Bellalyse has heard the servants talking about her. Loki's lover, wasn't she?"

"We aren't sure who she was," Odin replied. "We must find out." He fixed his single blue eye on his sons. "This will be your task, my sons. Víðarr, you are perhaps best suited to discovering all that needs to be learned, and you are also the most objective of your brothers. You must go to Midgard and speak to the mortal Nicholas Fury and one other, a man known as Charles Xavier, and learn of the woman called Althea. We must learn if Loki speaks the truth."

Thor said, "Father, I can go—"

But Odin shook his head. "No. You must remain here in Asgard, to coax the rest of the story from Loki. Besides, your brother's innate magical abilities enable him to better handle travel via the byways of the tesseract."

Víðarr's dark brown eyes met Thor's blue gaze, and the brothers nodded to each other. Out of all of his brothers, Thor knew Víðarr could be trusted with this. Unlike Tyr, who resented Loki becoming king during Thor's exile, and unlike Balder and Hermod, who had always looked up to Loki and felt his betrayal so keenly, there was no real bad blood between Víðarr and Loki. Turning to regard his father, Víðarr asked, "Where am I to start, Father?"

The king of Asgard gestured to Heimdall. "Gatekeeper, where is the place my son spoke of, this…institute?"

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters," Heimdall replied in his deep, rolling voice. "I can direct the tesseract to lead you as close to the school as possible, but there is a shield around it of some sort. I cannot penetrate it, and so can neither hear nor see what goes on within the grounds of the school. Some _seiðr_ shields the place."

Thor's brows rose toward his hairline. "_Seiðr_? Asgardian magic?"

Heimdall shook his head. "I cannot quite define this magic. It is not Asgardian…but it is not mortal, either. It is _similar_ to Loki's Jötunn power, but it is _not_ his. That is all I can tell you—that, and that this _seiðr_ is very powerful. Almost recklessly so, as if it is not even being controlled."

Víðarr nodded. "I see. Well, allow me to prepare, Father, and I will be off as soon as I may."

"You must take care, little brother," Thor said. "Midgard is dangerous. You must be especially wary of the horseless chariots they drive known as cars."

His younger brother snorted. "Heimdall told me how you were struck by such a chariot twice during your exile. Very well done, Brother. Your vigilance made our father proud. But have no fear—I know how to look where I'm going."

A slow grin spread over Thor's face. "Brother…you should know better than to challenge me. You have never bested me in combat."

"There is a first time for everything, Thor."

"With those puny arms?" He scoffed, grinning wider. "Please, Brother, no more jests. You will only make yourself look more foolish when I best you yet again."

"If that's how you feel, then by all means—"

"Boys," Frigga said softly, and the two princes snapped to attention, focusing on their mother. "That is enough of that, thank you."

"Yes, Mother," Víðarr murmured.

"My apologies, Mother," Thor said…but when Víðarr caught his eye, Thor couldn't push back his grin. Before Víðarr left for Midgard, he and Thor _would_ have a wrestling match. They would simply have to do it out of their mother's hearing.

**.**

Víðarr left that evening, _after_ the wrestling match, and the next morning Thor returned to Loki's cell. But Loki would not speak. Thor wondered if his brother had spent an entirely sleepless night thinking of that moment when he'd first kissed Thea. His little brother's gaze was bloodshot. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath his eyes. His fingernails had been chewed to the quick and then gnawed bloody; Thor remembered that in his childhood, Loki had bitten his nails whenever sorely distressed by something. Raw scrapes reddened Loki's pale knuckles.

For the next two weeks, Loki did not speak to Thor, though his brother returned every day to demand an explanation for what he'd said regarding not having killed Coulson. When those demands made no dent in Loki's brittle silence, Thor would ask about Thea and Sophie, but still his brother didn't speak.

A third week went by, and a fourth, and a fifth. Heimdall reported that Víðarr had likely made contact with the man known as Professor Charles Xavier, since the prince had been allowed to enter the school grounds by a red-haired man wearing spectacles with black lenses and a beast-like man wild black hair, a leather Midgardian coat, and feral eyes.

But Víðarr didn't leave the school in order to return to Asgard and make his report. After yet two more weeks, Heimdall reported that Charles Xavier was in another location, also shielded by that strange _seiðr_. The only reason the Gatekeeper had even learned of this was because he'd _seen_ Xavier rolling down the streets of another Midgardian city in his wheeled chair, arriving at a park to play a game of chess with another man. Heimdall hadn't recognized this second man, but had noted the blue numbers tattooed into his right forearm.

At last, after another week, Xavier returned to the magic-shrouded school. Heimdall reported to the king that after three days in the professor's company, Prince Víðarr was taken to speak to the one-eyed Midgardian warrior known as Nicholas Fury.

He returned home the next day. Welcomes by brothers, parents, and wife, Víðarr spoke nothing of what he'd learned on his journey until late that evening, when it was only himself, the king and queen, and Thor to hear his words.

"Xavier says there _was_ a girl fitting Althea's description who arrived at his school as a young girl more than two decades ago with her mother, brother, and sister. She attended school there, graduated, and became a tutor. Then on a trip with her family a little more than two years ago, she disappeared. Everything Loki said in that regard is true," Víðarr explained. "I sensed there was more, but Xavier did not offer it. I was watched closely by two warriors, a man known as Scott Summers and a savage warrior they referred to as 'Wolverine.' Claimed he was a teacher of the arts. I would have pressed Xavier for more information, but my instincts told me to hold back for the time being.

"After I finished my business with Xavier, I was taken to a Midgardian park, where I met with the SHIELD leader, Nicholas Fury. We spoke of the son of Coul. He was _not_ married," Víðarr added to Thor, locking eyes with him. "And never had been. There was a woman he was courting, however—you were correct about that. A woman, but they would not tell me where she lived. She's alive, however. They made that clear. And just like Xavier, it felt as if this Fury were holding back information, but when I pressed him, he neatly evaded answering my questions. I learned as much as I could_—_and I made a point to look in on your mortal, Brother," he added with a wink to the crown prince. "She is doing well. As you asked, I didn't make my presence known to her. I returned home quickly after that."

Not married, Thor thought as confusion spread through him. Not married, and never had been. Then…then who was Thea's husband? And Sophie's father? Loki had sworn by the Norns that he'd sired no half-mortal children. One did not break such an oath_—_ever. To foreswear that oath always led to deathly consequences. So what was going on?

And what, the crown prince wondered, were Fury and this Xavier holding back?

.

It was in the third week after Víðarr's return that Loki finally roused to Thor's demands and spoke to him about Thea again.

"Fury says Coulson never married," Thor told his brother.

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I never said he was Thea's husband." He lay on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes flicked all over, and Thor was reminded of how Loki would often lie on his back in the grass as a boy to look at the stars. Yet there were no stars here. What was Loki looking at, then? And that strange electric blue had returned to his gaze, though it flickered back and forth, battling with the green.

"You may as well have."

"No." Loki held up a finger. "You took my words and twisted them, jumping to conclusions as you so often do. That is not my fault. I never said Coulson was her husband. In fact, I said the man you knew _wasn't_ her husband. You simply weren't listening. You so rarely pay attention."

"Then who was he to her?" Thor demanded. "Tell me. What was their connection?"

Loki sighed. "You know their connection. You've simply forgotten."

The crown prince bit back a growl. "Why must you be so difficult? Can't you simply tell me the truth? Give me straight answers? Why must you play word games?"

His foster brother didn't speak for a long moment. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He opened his eyes at last and glanced at Thor. The prince was surprised to see that the blue had almost completely vanished. Loki murmured, "We kissed often after that first night," which the crown prince hadn't been expecting. "Always her lips were soft and sweet. Always she welcomed my kiss. I had never had that before."

Thor frowned, thrown by the abrupt change in topic. He knew better than to press Loki now, however; that would only destroy any chance the Asgardian had of learning anything from the disguised Frost Giant. "You've had your fair share of women over the centuries," Thor said.

Loki shook his head. "Not like this. The women I've enjoyed always wanted the prestige of bedding a prince, or knowing a prince's affection and regard. The women I tried courting for themselves never wanted me. None of them would have aught to do with me. It was only the lickspittle wenches who welcomed me. But not Thea, and after three months of kisses and embraces and her love like a guiding light in the dark…then came that second fateful night, when death and fear chased at our heels, and we thought we could cheat our enemies, our fears, the darkness of our lives, by holding tight to each other…"

**.**

_Loki had learned something from being with Thea—that each kiss, when done properly, felt and tasted different. Her light, quick kiss in the morning, beyond the boundaries of illusion, always sent sparks tingling along his skin. He would find himself, no matter how stiff or hungry or exhausted, returning that kiss with eagerness. And in their little world of mirages and memories, Thea's kisses tasted of ocean spray on the beach, ice cream melting on the tongue, stardust under the night sky, fresh wind caressing his face. Her arms around him were like a golden cage he never wanted to escape._

_When they leapt from the cliffs to plummet into the sea, he couldn't decide which was best—clasping her hand as the wind whipped by them; the way she would throw her arms around him and yell "Booyacashah!" as she half-bounced, half-tread in the water after breaking the surface; or the salt-sweetness of her kiss while she clung to him in the warm ocean waters, while the waves tangled her long hair around him like a rhinemaiden's tresses and her lips moved softly beneath his. In those moments it was all he could do not to clasp her tightly and try to lose himself in her touch, her embrace. The darkness hounded him, and she offered the respite he craved._

_When she read to him from the library of her memory beneath the leafy boughs of the trees, with the sweet scent of grass in his nose and sunlight warm on his face, he would steal more kisses between words. Every touch of her lips, every tender caress, dragged him further and further into her net…and Loki realized that not only didn't he care, but he actually craved the growing connection between them. A thousand different threads were slowly weaving the two of them closer, knotting them together, inextricably binding them._

_And he didn't care. He wanted it. He wanted_ more.

_One night, Loki gazed up at a thousand stars as he lay on the grass in Thea's world of illusions and dreams, one arm behind his head for a pillow. His other arm curled tight around Thea's shoulders as she rested her head on his chest. Loki was careful to keep a few inches separating their bodies save where her head touched his chest. His skin seemed almost to glow where she touched him, and he couldn't stop himself from yearning toward that contact._

_All this time, with nothing but pain from all quarters but this…only gentleness from her. He loved her for that gentleness. He loved her, and because he loved her, a thought and a question had both been slowly emerging from the recesses of his mind for what felt like a thousand years, and it prevented him from doing anything to in any way dishonor Thea. He wanted…wanted so much to ask her…_

_The question hung on the tip of his tongue, beating against his pursed lips to be set free so that even in the darkness of their lives as prisoners, he could know some semblance of true happiness…but there was a specter looming between them. One he could not dismiss._

_Phil. Thea claimed to love the pseudo-Æsir, but she also claimed to love Phil. Phil, whom she had known for so long, who was "romantic" and clearly cared for her. What about him?_

_That lone ghost was all that stood in the way of the question ripening in Loki's mouth like sweet fruit._

_Thea sighed and nuzzled her cheek against the thin linen shirt he wore. The warm, fresh spring air she'd created felt lovely after the stuffy confines of his cell. He always missed the little breezes that often wafted through their world of mirages when he returned to the dank pit of his prison._

_"Thea," Loki ventured into the starlit darkness._

_"Hmmm?" She sounded half-asleep, but Loki knew better. When her concentration wavered—as it rarely did—lines of darkness and nothing spread across the world of her imagination, smothering the illusions she made._

_Loki cleared his throat. "If we ever make it to Midgard…what will you tell Phil about me?"_

_Her shoulder nudged his upper ribcage when she shrugged. "I don't know."_

_"Aren't you worried about it?"_

_"No," she replied carelessly. "He'll like you."_

_"Are you certain of that?" Loki asked. "After I stole you away from him and—"_

_She propped herself up on one elbow, staring down at him, clearly baffled. "Stole me from him? You didn't…oh." Her eyes widened. The stars were bright enough that he could actually see her expression, as if by dim lamplight. "Oh. Oh! Ew!' She flopped back on the grass and flailed her arms and legs—carefully, lest she hit him by accident. Her pale blue t-shirt and skirt showed starkly against the night-darkened grass. "Oh, ew, ew! You thought…ew! Icky!"_

_Loki frowned. "What? What did I say?" He realized she was laughing while exclaiming over whatever was so "icky," and his frown eased into a smile…but what was she complaining about?_

_Thea rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. "That's icky, that you thought me and Phil…oh, ugh. He's like, more than fifteen years older than me. And he_ looks _it. Ew. He's like my dad, for crying out loud. Plus there's the fact that he's dating my mom. I realize I'm the greatest thing since the invention of chicken-and-pineapple pizza, but even I don't poach my mom's guys. Ew."_

_His eyes widened. "Your…your mother? He's courting your mother?"_

_"Yeah. They've been dating for…jeez, since I was nine, I think. I remember their first date because he brought me and my mom and Joie and Cleo flowers. They've been together forever. He even flies out to Portland every so often to see her concerts and stuff. They would've gotten married already, but my mom went through a seriously messy divorce when she ditched the Super Douche, because of the mutant rights involved and whatever, so she's kind of dragging her feet about making it to the altar again. I hope she marries him, though," Thea added, looking wistful. "We all love him. My whole family." Then she glanced at Loki and giggled. "You seriously thought I would date Phil? Blegh. For one thing, he's like my dad. For another, I'm dead-stupid-in-love with_ you."

_Golden warmth flooded his body at her casual admission. It still made his thoughts stumble a little when she would say things like that, about loving him. And she could see it, he knew she could. See his struggle to believe. She loved him. It seemed so impossible._

_He'd told her once about the women he'd tried to court over the centuries. There was Glut, she with hair like winter fire and eyes of soft, tawny gold. She'd had the gift for fire seiðr, and had taught him many of the fire-spells he'd learned in his childhood. But she had laughed at him when he'd confessed his feelings and told him he was "a sweet boy." It had been utterly humiliating._

_Thea had told him she would've doused Glut—whose name meant "glow"—with a bucket of cold water and then dropped her down a well to see how brightly she could glow in the dark._

_There had been Angbodr, a plain girl teased as being of Frost Giant blood because of her looks and pale skin and grayish-black hair. She'd been beautiful, too—elegance and grace, with such lovely ice-blue eyes. When Loki had seen her for the first time, he'd nearly tripped over his own feet. He still didn't understand why his brothers had found her homely. To him, she had been like a snow goddess. But when he'd tried to woo her with poetry and flowers, she'd shoved him away, spurning him and calling him too plain to suit her._

_Thea had told him she would've hog-tied Angbodr with red yarn and dangled her from a tree to play Piñata with, using snowballs instead of a stick. Then she'd had to teach Loki how to play Piñata because he hadn't understood what she meant._

_Then there was Amora, the Enchantress. They had been friends and partners in their__ seiðr __studies, and he had fallen helplessly in love with her hair like a river of gold and her eyes the color of sunlight through emeralds. With her, he had once more attempted poetry and flowers, music and trinkets to please her. She had accepted them all, unlike Angbodr. Accepted them…but all the while, she had wanted Thor. Loki's attentions had pleased her vanity_—_nothing more. It had taken him far too long to realize that, and even longer to realize that nothing he did would ever win her heart._

_Thea had told him she wanted a chance to meet Amora, so she could try to strangle the Asgardian woman with her own flowing, golden hair. Claimed she'd seen a woman strangle a man with her hair on television once._

_And of course, there had been Sif. He'd loved Sif once upon a time. Even now, he still cared for her. She was his friend…or had been. His brother's friend, surely, and one of Thor's staunchest allies. He'd seen her dark beauty and been instantly smitten. All lithe grace, feral beauty, with the razor edge of a warrior maiden…but she had been in love with Thor. Loki had known that from the start. That hadn't stopped him from being in love with her for several years, or from trying to comfort her when Thor had hurt her. After he'd told Thea about Sif's slap, she had said flat out that she hated Sif with the fiery passion of ten million suns._

_And now he had Althea. The first woman to ever want_ him. _Not his title, not his social standing among the court as Odin's third son, not his tainted prestige as a magic-user, but simply_ him. _And if not for the cold stone walls of his prison, he would have been happy with her, no matter where they were. There was only one thing…_

_He was glad that Phil wasn't Thea's suitor. She spoke so highly of him, and Loki respected what he knew of the mortal warrior. It would have been a painful thing, to ask what he wished of Thea while having to be concerned about the son of Coul._

_Loki took a breath. He could ask his question now with a clear conscience. He had to know…and he had the means of bringing it all to fruition. He simply needed her answer first._

_"Thea…are you…when we get to Midgard, what do you wish to do?"_

_"Eat a really big sundae with whipped cream, broken bits of waffle and yellow cake and brownie, cherries and strawberries, rainbow sprinkles, and strawberry sauce. I will seriously just bury my face in it and absorb it through osmosis, I want it so bad. I'll suck sugar in through my eyeballs."_

_Chuckling, he said, "I meant after you gorge yourself on sweets."_

_"Run a marathon around the world so I don't get fat from pigging out like a hungry, hungry hippo," she replied promptly, smiling. "And when I was done, I'd hug my family and then I'd drag you off to Vegas."_

_He frowned. "What is…Vegas?"_

_"It's where people who are broke go to get married," she said. "Which is why I'd take you there. We're destined for each other. You know it, I know it, it's fate. And if it's not fate, then I'll steal the cosmic chalk and write it on the cosmic chalkboard of life and then it will be fate. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, magical-country-in-the-wardrobe fate-stuff, just like in the fairy tales. So there. You're mine. The end. Go ahead and feel all kinds of lucky. You know you want this." She threw her arms out wide as if to bask in his amused gaze. "I'm just too precious to resist ever. It's like a magnet. A smexy, smexy, but incredibly cute magnet. With a face. And toes." She lifted her feet to wiggle her toes; her toenails had each been painted a different color. "Are my toes not the most incredible things ever to be invented? Look at my pedicure. Monet is jealous of me. He's turning over in his grave."_

_"Thea," he said, laughing a little but feeling as if his stomach was attempting to crawl up into his throat, "if you mean that…if you truly, honestly mean that…then will you…will you marry me?"_

_She grinned. "Well, duh. I just said I would. Why? You wanna run away and elope in Scotland like in_ Pride and Prejudice? _That would be kind of fun. Except there's sheep everywhere. I love sheep, lambies are so cute, but…I dunno. Can you imagine? The preacher asks anyone if they object to us getting married and you hear this, 'Baaa.' It's like, 'Well, forget you, sheep. Who invited you, anyway?' Awkward."_

_"I mean now," Loki said softly, and her smile died away. "Right now. Tonight."_

_Thea blinked at him. "Say what?"_

_"Will you marry me tonight?" He watched her eyes widen. So he took a breath and took a plunge into terrifyingly deep waters. "I love you," he confessed, and her mouth fell open. He'd never said it aloud before. The words hung in the air, gathering strength and weight until he thought they would crush him…but it would be a glorious death. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. I never thought I_ could _love like this. Let me love you, Thea. Let me be with you. The Chitauri have taken so much from us but they cannot take what I feel for you. Let me love you. Marry me."_

_"Um…but…how?" She sat fully upright, shoving at her hair. "How can we? We're stuck here. There's no priest, no justice of the peace, nothing like that. We can't just be like, 'Oh, we're married. The end.' Can we? Not that that wouldn't be cool—not to mention really convenient—but is that even legal?"_

_"In Asgard it is," Loki replied, and her mouth fell open again. "Remember, I have half of a Golden Apple of Iðunn." He'd told her of his ability to access a thimbleful of magic weeks ago. "I can give it to you. If you eat it, and you exchange vows with me, you will be my wife by Asgardian law."_

_"Holy sweet honey iced-tea," she whispered. A pang shot through Loki's chest at the plain shock on her face, but then he realized that Thea's eyes were shining, wet with what could only be unshed tears of happiness, mixed with a gleam of excitement. With a squeal, she launched herself at Loki. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she knocked him to the grass. Her weight crashed down on him, and it was perhaps the most pleasant attack he'd ever known._

_"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Holy hot fudge sundaes! We can get married now? Like right now? Seriously?" When he nodded, she squeezed him tighter, raining kisses all over his face, and cried, "Awesome! So awesome! You'll be all mine! Like, actually really totally completely mine! Yes! Eat your hearts out, Asgardian chicks, he's mine! Mine, mine, mine! Go me! In your faces!"_

_She pulled back enough to look down into his stunned face. Grinning, she added, "It's like a million birthdays and Christmas all smushed together into a giant fudge brownie with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate chips and dipped in melting vanilla ice cream dumped in a stickiness-resistant Easter basket with edible grass. Great, now I want a brownie and edible grass. I am like, obsessed with junk food. It's like crack for me. It's what comes into my head when I'm rapturously delighted with stuff. I want a brownie."_

_Thea cocked her head, smiling down at him. "Will you be my brownie? Oh! Or my penguin! Penguins mate for life, did you know that? So do otters. Will you be my chocolate otter-penguin pastry? Erm…brownies are technically biscuits, because they're made with batter, but chocolate otter-penguin biscuit doesn't sound as good and I am_ so _rambling because I love you and you're going to be my brownie!"_

_Even though it was the silliest, most inane statement that could have been made in that moment, Loki grinned and nodded. "Oh, yes, darling. Yes, I am."_

_"Awesome," Thea breathed. "I love you. You're the best chocolate otter-penguin ever. Gimme that apple."_

_It was a wrench to lose the illusion, the beauty of spring stars and the fragrances on the breeze, but Loki had something he needed to do before he could give Thea the Golden Apple of Iðunn. And she was in her cell, he knew, doing…something. He wasn't sure what, but it bought him time._

_Drawing on his_ seiðr, _he let it spill out in a needle-thin sheet to cover the floor of his dirty cell. It was such a small spell, nothing too difficult, but the effort sent lances of pain stabbing deep into his brain. A thin trickle of blood spilled from one nostril; he caught it with the hem of his sleeve. The magic would act as a second floor, protecting Thea from dirt and grime. Normally it wouldn't matter, but this was to be their wedding._

_Their wedding…_

_Next, Loki managed to pull a comb and a relatively clean shirt from the place between dimensions. It took him several minutes of savage yanking to comb the tangles from his hair, but he would do Thea honor as best he could with this. He_ would.

_Using some of his precious water, he stripped and cleaned as much of the grime from his body as he could, then put on the cleaner shirt—a rich emerald green with only a few rips in it and an embroidered collar. He didn't wear it because it was a touch too small and it was torn, but it was the cleanest thing he owned. Finally, he took out the Apple and waited in its lovely golden glow and the soft beams of the two small flashlights he'd set up somewhat like candles in opposite corners of the cell._

_Thea poked her head into his cell through the hole a few moments later and smiled shyly at him. She'd taken the time to clean up, as well. Her face had been washed, her hair combed and pinned in a new style. And though Loki knew it to be an illusion, she wore a beautiful ivory dress the glimmered like moonlight. After a few minutes of wiggling, she squeezed into Loki's cell and settled against the wall._

_They were really doing this. They were going to marry, right here and now. She deserved a palace wedding in the vaulted halls of the All-Father, with jewels and flowers and other such, but this was all he could give her. Yet she smiled at him as if Loki were heaping her with riches._

"_Take it," he whispered, holding out the Apple. "You realize what will happen when you eat this?" He'd told her about Bellalyse months ago, about how she'd gone from being Vanir to Æsir after eating one of the Golden Apples. Thea knew what would become of her after she tasted of the fruit…but he wanted to give her the chance to back out if she wasn't ready for all that marrying him entailed._

_Her look was gentle and amused when she took the fruit from him. "I'll be an immortal love goddess. Not too much different from right now, except I'll actually have a bodacious husband. Somehow, I'm okay with that." Growing serious, she said, "I love you, Loki. These months here…I love you, and I want us to be together all the time. Forever. I want to marry you. Right now. So let's do it."_

_Loki watched Thea take careful bites from the Golden Apple, watched the healthy color flush through her pale face. With each bite, the delicious and crisp scent of the fruit flooded the small chamber. With each bite, Thea's eyes sparkled brighter and she sat straighter as health and_ seiðr _flooded her body. Something excruciating and glorious squeezed his heart. When there was nothing left but half of a nibbled apple core, Loki sent it back to the between-place and took Thea's hands in his. Her skin was soft and warm, and remarkably clean. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed each one._

_"I, Loki Odinson, do pledge thee my heart, body, and soul until the end of eternity, until the coming of Ragnarok and the death of Time." Slowly, feeling his own hands shake, he brought Thea's hands to his lips again and kissed first one, then the other. Then he turned her hand up and pressed his lips to the center of her palm._

_Thea let out a breathy sigh at the caress. "I, Althea Sigyn Valerian, do pledge thee my heart, body, and soul until the end of eternity, until the coming of Ragnarok and the death of Time." Then she reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a silver chain. On the chain was an engraved golden ring with a green stone in it—a man's ring. "Here," she murmured, pulling the chain over her head. "This was my mom's. She gave it to me when I graduated high school; she got it from her dad. On Earth, we exchange rings. I know you probably don't have one for me, and that's okay, because I've got this." She pulled a ring off her finger, and he realized it was almost a match for the one hanging from her neck. "But if you wear this, it would be almost the same. Will you wear it?"_

_A swell of emotion squeezed Loki's heart and he took the proffered ring. He was really doing this, he thought. He was really, truly marrying her. They were married. The joy burgeoning within him could not be shattered. Nothing could destroy this. Yes, they were still prisoners, and yes the Chitauri would hurt them both again…but this moment was somehow perfect, despite all of that._

_The ring didn't fit, so he put it around his neck. Then he slid Thea's own ring on the proper finger, hands still shaking just a touch. So quickly, it was all happening so fast, but he wanted it, he wanted this. He wanted_ her.

_He loved her…and that terrified him to his bones, even as the knowledge of it threatened to make his heart burst._

"_Now what?" She asked softly, biting her lip. His eyes fixed on her mouth. He had kissed those lips countless times over the last four moons, ever since that night of dancing amidst an illusionary crowd…but this was different. Loki could feel the sudden tension thrumming through them both. Without conscious thought he leaned toward her._

_Loki hadn't thought of what would come after the exchange of vows; not really. But now…now, when he could see the beautiful shape of her body in the glow of the upright flashlights, when her hair gleamed in the dimness like threads of jeweled shadow, a wave of desire crashed over him, pulling like the tide. He drew near her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb swept across the lush curve of her lower lip. His wife. In a reckless moment of need and hope and love, danger and desire humming in his blood, he had made this angel his wife._

"_Now I kiss my wife," he murmured, unable to keep the awe from his voice, and touched his lips to hers._

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Thor stared at his little brother in absolute shock. It couldn't be…how had he never considered…Somehow, through numb lips, Thor whispered, "Thea was your wife. She was _your_ wife." He felt suddenly sick. The Chitauri had killed Loki's _wife_. "Why…why did you say nothing? They killed your wife. Brother, I would have helped you! She was your wife, my sister; I would have _helped_ you." Then a terrible, horrifying thought sliced Thor to the marrow. His heart gave a savage lurch in his chest. "Sophie…Sophie was…Loki, was Sophie…?"

A low, buzzing pulse rippled across the prison cell before hitting the wall of _seiðr_keeping Loki trapped inside. Thor stepped back as his brother bolted upright and swung his legs over the side of his cot. He lunged to his feet and took two swift strides toward the window before jerking to a halt in the center of the room. Spreading his hands wide, he fixed Thor with a tortured gaze. Energy crackled along his palms even as the prison's _seiðr_ tried to shove it down. Wisps of shadow and emerald light drifted up from the floor, twining together like serpents. Loki never looked away from Thor's face as the illusion solidified. Blood trickled from Loki's nose and he chewed his bottom lip until more blood came, but he glared at his brother, daring him to look away, daring him to be the coward and not acknowledge what Loki was at last going to show him.

Then the illusion came together, and Thor staggered back to stare at the little girl who looked back at him: a little girl, perhaps a year and a half old or a little more, in a green velvet smock embroidered in gold; she held a stuffed bear, its fur the same shade as her curling black hair. But it was her eyes that ripped at Thor's heart. The eyes, in that lightly freckled, angular ivory face so much like a face he knew so well, were a brilliant emerald green.

"_My_ daughter," Loki whispered, and his voice was that of a man in terrible agony. "Thea was _my_ wife, and Sophie was _my_ daughter."

And Loki's legs buckled and he sank to the floor. Bowing his head, shoulders shaking, he let the illusion fade as the tears coursed down his cheeks.

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_Author's Note__: so hopefully that came as a surprise to you all! Some of you have suspected for a while, but I hope I was wily enough to throw you off the scent until now. So what do you guys think so far? How am I doing? Oh, and this fic is going to be a bit longer than I thought. Originally it was only going to be about 80,000 words max, but it feels like it's going to be about twice that, in order to include everything I need to. We're about halfway there, though. Maybe even further. So I promise, this fic won't be the drama that never ends. It's not a soap opera. So hopefully you guys like it enough to stick it out until the end. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please let me know what you think! Hugs!_

_PS - the clue to Thea's identity was her middle name. Sigyn is the wife of Loki in both Norse myth and in the Marvel comics. *evil chuckle* See what I did there? Lol. Bye, everybody!_


	17. The Flaws in Other Plans

_**Author's Note**__: so here we are with the next chapter! We'll get some interesting plot developments here and in chapter seventeen. Hope you guys are excited! And for once, I have time to actually list the soundtrack. This chapter was written in a non-stop rush, basically, in about a day two weeks ago, so I really needed a lot of music to help me power through. For the __first__, __third__, and __fourth__ scenes, I listened to: "Never Be Enough" by Sent by Ravens; "Where Is the Edge" by Within Temptation; "Girl in the Garden" by SJ Tucker; "Caspar's Lullaby" from_ Caspar the Friendly Ghost OST; "_Breath of Life" by Florence + the Machine;"Broken English" by Adam Lambert; and "Lost" by Within Temptation._

_The __second__ scene involved the following music: "Davy Jones' Lullaby (Music Box Version)" from Pirates of the Caribbean; "Slow Movement" from Romeo + Juliet; "Prituri Se Planinata" by Stellamara; "First Snow" from The Fountain;"Assassin's Creed III" by Lindsey Stirling; and "Catherine Dies" from Wuthering Heights (1992), with thanks to Alydia Rackham for showing me the clip of the film where this song is playing._

_Finally, the __fifth__ scene was written to the following: "A Thousand Years Pt 2" by Christina Perri; "Young and Beautiful" by Lana del Ray; "Believe in Angels" from_ The Crow Soundtrack; "_Skyfall" by Adele; "The Sanctuary" by Darling Violetta; "Haunted" by Taylor Swift (Instrumental); "Flightless Power" by Baschfire; "Roads Untraveled" by Linkin Park (more for the melody than the words);"Arwen's Vigil" by The Piano Guys; "Prituri Se Planinata (_Step Up 4 _Remix)" by Stellamaria;"Death Scene" from_ Romeo+Juliet; _and finally, "Break Me Down" by Red._

_I __highly__ recommend you guys look up "Prituri Se Planinata." It's a beautiful song. Mostly instrumental with some sobbing vocals, it's beautiful. And there's a dance in_ Step Up Revolution (_aka_ Step Up 4) _to a remix of the song that is gorgeous that you can probably find on YouTube. I also recommend you listen to Lana del Ray's "Young and Beautiful." It really is lovely._

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**Chapter Sixteen**

**The Flaws of Other Plans**

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Loki's wife. Loki's daughter.

It was too much. It was more than Thor could bear to think about. His brother's wife. His brother's child. Thor's own kin. He had to tell his father, his mother. His brothers. They had to know what wrong had been done to the fostered prince. If it had been Jane…Thor wasn't sure what he would have done, had it been Jane in danger from the Chitauri, and he in Loki's place. And if a child had been weighed in the balance…

Yet Loki had claimed he'd killed Thea's husband, Sophie's father. He had claimed...and yet Loki's words now echoed in the crown prince's skull.

_I killed the wretch. Drove a blade into his pathetic heart and watched him bleed out, watched him suffer for…for what he'd done. For leaving them there. Leaving his helpless wife and his daughter to the Chitauri. Yes, I killed him. I killed Thea's husband and Sophie's father. I watched him die, watched his heart's blood spill like a crimson fountain until there was nothing left but an empty, desiccated husk, a dead man—if he ever was a man at all…Loki Odinson is dead, and I am what's left_.

And his oath to Odin? An oath unbreakable…yet it had been true. Loki hadn't lain with a mortal, for Thea had been Asgardian then, having tasted of the Golden Apple. And Sophie hadn't been half-mortal, but half-Asgardian and half-Jötunn. Even now, his brother was clever with his words.

But his brother's wife and daughter…both murdered. Thor squeezed his eyes shut to keep from shaming himself with tears.

At last, Thor tried to speak to his brother, tried to say something, but Loki surged to his feet and turned his back on Thor, stalking to the fireplace. Leaning his forearm on the mantel, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead hard against his knotted fist. There would be no more words from Loki this day.

In a haze of numbness, Thor trudged back to his rooms and sank down onto his bed. His eyes traced the patterns of the rug beneath his feet even as the thoughts circled in his brain. Could it be true? Could it really be true? That little girl, Loki's daughter, murdered by the Chitauri? And Thea, that effervescent girl who could always make Loki smile…his wife, murdered?

He had to tell his parents, he thought again. They had to know…but would they believe? It would destroy Loki if they didn't believe after the grief and courage it had taken for the fostered prince to reveal so much. And Tyr and the twins...would they believe, either? If they didn't, it would shatter Loki. And their friends, Sif and the Three. If Thor revealed everything now, without proof, and they didn't believe his twin brother's story, it would destroy everything Thor had worked so hard to build between himself and Loki.

"Thor," a quiet voice called from the door of his room. He'd forgotten to close it, he realized. Looking up, he saw Víðarr standing in the entryway, watching him with furrowed brows. "Thor…what is it?"

He shook his head. "I know not where to begin. The information you gathered about Coulson was correct; he was never married. He wasn't Thea's husband."

Víðarr came into the room, shutting the door behind him. Taking the chair near the bed, he leaned toward his elder brother. "Do you know who she was, then? Did Loki tell you at last?"

Thor nodded. Out of all of his family and friends, Víðarr was the one he could trust with this. He wouldn't dismiss without thinking it through. And it might help him with his search on Midgard. "He claims…he claims that Thea was his wife."

Brown eyes widened. "His _wife?"_

Another nod from the crown prince. "I could scarcely fathom it myself—Loki married. Loki with a child."

"A child?" Puzzlement crossed Víðarr's features. "He has a child?"

"_Had_," Thor murmured with painful emphasis, thinking of that green-eyed little girl who looked so much like his brother. "She is dead. They are both dead, the child and her mother. Loki lost them both when I thwarted his attempt to invade Midgard, or so he claims. I have no proof yet, but the grief in him…he wept, Víðarr. When he at last revealed them to me, revealed the truth, he wept openly. You know he does not weep unashamed before others."

There was a long silence, filled only by the crackling of the fire on the bedroom hearth to drive away the bitter chill. It had been more than a year since Loki had been brought back from Midgard; winter had fallen, spring had passed, summer faded, autumn gone by in a blaze of gold and crimson, and now cold winter was ever so slowly making way for spring again. Had Loki carried the horror of this knowledge throughout the long months since his imprisonment, and none of them had seen it?

Thor remembered the night after he'd been captured by the Avengers. The archer, Banner, the woman called the Black Widow, the young captain, the Man of Iron, and Thor himself had all gone to feast on a mortal dish known as schwarma. Loki had been left in SHIELD custody. Nicholas Fury had been confident he would be unable to escape, and Loki hadn't seemed inclined to try. He'd almost seemed to be…waiting. Waiting for what, even his brother hadn't known. But Loki had definitely been waiting for something.

And then, when the Avengers had returned to the SHIELD base where Loki was imprisoned, there had come the one moment Thor hadn't understood. The moment he _still_ did not understand…or hadn't, until now. But now, his memory tried to shy away from it, because at last he thought he might understand what had really occurred in that moment.

That moment when Loki had screamed…

**.**

_"He was pretty restless earlier," the agent called Hill informed the Avengers when they entered the observation chamber that could, when activated, give them the perfect view of their quiescent prisoner. "Pacing like a wolf in a cage. Then about five minutes ago he sat down and got quiet."_

_Everyone gave the single active monitor a dismissive glance, save Thor. He couldn't look at it at all. In the heat of battle, he'd been able to push aside the briar-tangle of emotions threatening to strangle him. Now, though…how could his brother have committed such evil acts? How? Where was the brother he knew in that madman trapped in the Midgardian cage?_

_"Thor," Banner said, nudging him a little. The Asgardian flicked his gaze to the mortal scientist and away again. "You okay?"_

_After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. I am—"_

_From beyond the frosted glass wall separating Loki's cell from the observation chamber came a horrific scream, an agonized howl of anguish saturated with half-mad rage that dragged on and on, holding everyone in the room frozen. Thor's eyes widened and his blood shifted to ice-water at the terrible sound that seemed to scrape along his very bones. He had heard men scream so when mortally wounded on the battlefield, but never…_

_Then a single, awful thought penetrated the fog of gut-churning horror. Without another moment's hesitation, he surged forward, rushing for the door that would lead him to the room where his brother was being held. Loki could_ not _escape again. He could_ not.

_But Loki wasn't trying to escape. Forearms braced against the window-like wall of his cell, his shoulders jounced up and down and his chest heaved as he sucked in ragged breaths. Sweat raced down his pale face, plastering his dark hair to his cheeks and neck and temples. Wide, electric blue eyes blazed in the sunken sockets with something that might have been an insane sort of horror. Blood leaked from Loki's cuts and he hunched as if whatever wounds Banner had inflicted pained him. Thor realized he leaned against the glass because his legs shook violently. In fact, Loki trembled as if the strength were swiftly draining from his limbs. Even as the crown prince watched, he dropped gracelessly to his knees. His arms slowly rose to cover his belly, as if…as if he'd been gutted, and were trying futilely to hold himself together._

_"What was that?" The captain asked from Thor's left, staring at the containment cell. They were all staring at the cell_—_the six Avengers and Nicholas Fury. Thor's hand slowly drifted away from the handle of his hammer as his brother only hunched there on his knees, shuddering, staring blankly at nothing._

_"I don't know," said the young, white-faced SHIELD agent that had been on guard in the room. Shouldering his weapon, he saluted Fury with a shaking hand and added, "He was just sitting there staring at nothing, like he was meditating or something, sir. Then his eyes widened and he gave this jerk and gasped like…well, it sounded like he was hurt or something. And he suddenly looked…"_

_"How did he look, soldier?" Fury demanded when the young agent didn't finish._

_"Well, to be honest, sir, I'm not entirely sure. Like he'd just been stabbed, sort of. I…I can't really describe it. The prisoner got to his feet, looked at the ceiling of his cell, and just…screamed, sir."_

_"Maybe somebody needs a timeout," Tony muttered from beside the young captain. Steven laughed softly. Thor glanced disapprovingly at them, but said nothing. He only watched his brother._

_Loki trembled as he slowly rose to his feet. He swayed where he stood, as if drunk. With staggering steps, Loki then stumbled back to the bench on the opposite side of the cell. As if in a daze, he dropped to the bench, looking pale as a corpse. Against Thor's will, a flash of concern shot through the prince._

_Almost as if he'd sensed that concern, Loki lifted his head and let his eyes drift past the line of hostile faces until they settled on Thor. Those hollow eyes, colored blue by the lighting, held the agony of a man being slowly burned alive. A man who'd seen his own death, and had actually welcomed it, only to have it snatched away._

_"Kill me, Thor," he whispered, and the murmurs of the Avengers quieted._

_The crown prince shook his head. "You will face Asgardian justice for your crimes, Loki."_

_"Justice," Loki echoed, almost as if he didn't understand the word. "Justice. Justice?" He shook his head. His fingers slowly knotted into white-knuckled fists that shook. Even as they watched, crimson begin seeping between the long, pale fingers. "There is no justice. No fairness. Nothing. Nothing." And then Thor thought Loki said "she is…" before trailing off, but he couldn't be certain. "There is no justice here. There is nothing here."_

_Nicholas Fury took two measured steps toward the containment cell and paused, studying his prisoner. At last he said, "Finally woke up to the fact that we won't let you just conquer our planet?"_

_Loki didn't look at him. Didn't acknowledge him. In fact, it was almost as if the green-eyed prince didn't even hear Fury's words. He stared at nothing, looking like a child lost in the dark. Thor frowned. This was_ not _like his brother at all. Loki's pride, his sheer arrogance, should have had him lashing out at Fury for his "disrespect."_

_Instead Loki rose to his feet and took a few shambling steps toward the center of his prison. With every step, his feet dragged and his legs shook. Blood dripped from his wounded hands to stain the floor. Thor took a step forward. He could sense the unease in his comrades. Tension prickled on the air. Loki swayed, staggered. What was he doing? Thor couldn't be certain—none of them could—and so they waited, tense and ready, for him to try to attack._

_But he didn't. He merely dropped to his knees once more, limp as a marionette whose strings had been cut, then sat on the floor. He looked like a man who'd received a poisoned knife between the ribs, a man bleeding to death who hadn't yet realized he was already dead. He looked at Thor, a look of such potent pleading that it burned the prince like a brand against his heart, before dropping his gaze to his bloody hands, which trembled as he held them out in front of him. Slowly Loki shook his head as if it were a great weight upon his shoulders. The breath hitched in his throat; he swallowed hard. His fingers tangled into fists._

"_No," he whispered. The word seemed to tear from his throat like a gossamer blade, soft and deadly as graveyard chill. He shook his head again. "No. No, this can't be."_

"_Looks like ultimate power finally got the message—"_

"_No!" Loki roared, surging back to his feet. Immediately Thor wrenched up his hammer. He heard the hum and whine of Tony Stark's armor, the quiet singing of the captain raising his shield. The archer knocked an arrow and the Black Widow and Fury both raised their weapons. But Loki didn't acknowledge them. He raked his fingers through his hair and bellowed, "No! No! This can't be__! No!"_

_Thor felt it before the others realized what was happening—the rising scream of_ seiðr _on the air, snapping and crackling with power. Loki wasn't_ doing _anything with it, just letting it build and build until it rattled the walls of his prison._

_And the Avengers could do nothing. There was no thirty-thousand-foot drop this time that could kill him, but Loki had been so badly wounded they hadn't believed they'd needed it. Yet now the pressure of Loki's_ seiðr _sent an ache throbbing through Thor's teeth. Loki's wild eyes lifted to the ceiling, darted all over it as if searching desperately for something._

_"No," he gasped. "No, no, no_! No!"

_Thor took a grip on his own_ seiðr,_ clumsy though it was compared to his brother's sorcery, and flung it between the Avengers and his brother's power as it exploded in a flash of blinding emerald light tinged with ivory and threaded with blue. That power hit Thor's magic with a thunderous_ crack! _And amidst the torrent of savage power, the prince heard that same anguished scream once more, the insane torturous howl that shouldn't have been able to come from any human throat. The agony in it chilled the Asgardian's blood like wind out of Jötunheim. Somewhere in that scream was a word, one Thor couldn't quite hear, a tortured cry of denial and insane despair._

_Spots danced across Thor's eyes; he swiftly blinked them away, needing to be ready for his brother's next assault…but none came. When he could see again, the prince realized Loki sat with his back to them all, pressed to the wall of the cell. His bowed head rested on his updrawn knees. Bloody handprints smeared the white floor. Loki sat utterly still, not so much as a muscle twitching._

"_What was that?" Fury demanded._

"Seiðr_," Thor replied, staring at his brother's still form. Loki didn't even react to the word. "My brother's power unleashed. I shielded us. I…I do not think he will try it again."_

_The rest of the Avengers stared at him, unsure, but Fury nodded. "Doesn't have it in him?"_

_Watching Loki, Thor shook his head. "No," he replied, knowing the words were true even though he didn't understand why. "No, he doesn't."_

_Loki's head remained bowed, his entire body locked with tension so taut Thor's own muscles seemed to scream in sympathy. The captive prince didn't turn around as the Avengers began to walk away. He never looked up. He merely held himself tightly with his back to them, the ghost of that ravaged howling still echoing in the room._

**.**

"He knew," Thor whispered to Víðarr. "I didn't understand then. I thought he was merely…merely insane, and enraged at having been thwarted. But he must have known somehow. He must have sensed it when they were killed."

His brother looked sick. "Are you certain?"

"Not certain, no. We need proof, but…but I think…I know he isn't lying." Thor looked at his younger brother. "You said you believed Xavier and Fury were holding information back. Why? I should have asked you then, but I was distracted by what you reported about Coulson. Why do you believe they were holding back?"

Víðarr leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "When Xavier spoke of the girl, that she'd disappeared, it seemed as if he would say more, but then he didn't. As if he'd thought better of it. When I asked if there was anything else, he looked at me for a moment as if weighing a choice. Then he shook his head, as if the choice had been made, and said that was all he could tell me."

"And Fury?" Thor pressed.

Now his younger brother frowned. "When I spoke to _him_ of Coulson, I mentioned that I was your emissary, and that you had questions about the fallen son of Coul. Fury gave me an odd look and said, 'The fallen son of Coul. Interesting.' When I asked him what was so interesting, he hesitated for just a moment before saying he wouldn't have thought you would send another of your brothers to Midgard just to ask questions of a man you believed to be dead. I thought his phrasing strange, but he wouldn't elaborate."

"Did either of them explain what might be causing the strange _seiðr_ shielding around the school and their base?"

Víðarr shook his head. "When I mentioned it, that our Gatekeeper couldn't see past such shields, they both seemed surprised…but then they both had nearly identical looks on their faces, as if they'd just realized something. They wouldn't speak of it, however, and claimed not to know the cause of the shields."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

His brother shot him an irritated look. "I was tired. It was nearly midnight. I'd been traveling in enemy territory for weeks. Might I have just a little leeway to forget a few things? I _did_ tell Father when I remembered. He wants me to go back in a few weeks' time and speak to the Midgardians again, to see if we might get more answers."

Now it was Thor's turn to shake his head. "No. Fury keeps many secrets, and his honor is…questionable. I know not this Professor Charles Xavier, and so I am not certain I can trust him, either. Loki said that Thea had been wrong to trust either man, but he never explained why. No…if we need information, now that we have a place to start, there is only one man I would trust to find it for us."

Raising both brows in inquiry, Víðarr said, "You trust a Midgardian that much? He must be a worthy ally. Who is he?"

"Anthony Stark."

**.**

Thor went to Loki the next morning to try and see if there was more to his story, but Loki simply lay on his cot, feigning sleep. After what he'd revealed last night, Thor knew his brother no doubt wished him far, far away, where he would stop asking questions about Thea and Sophie…but now that the crown prince knew part of the truth, he had to have it all. If only Loki would give it to him…

But there was another reason for his visit. After an hour of trying to coax words from his little brother, Thor finally said, "Loki, I will be gone for a while. You will not see me tomorrow. I wanted you to know so that you didn't think…" Didn't think Thor had abandoned him after dragging such painful truth from him, but the prince couldn't seem to force those words past his lips. "I must go to Midgard and—"

"To Midgard?" Loki repeated in a rasp that was barely there. Thor had already heard from the guards going off-duty that morning that Loki had actually slept for a time the night before, only to wake himself screaming. They hadn't known what the captive prince had dreamt; they only knew he'd been roaring protests against something in his nightmares. Thor was fairly certain he knew what. "Why to Midgard?" Loki asked.

"If we are to give you your vengeance for your wife and child, then Father must be convinced. I will go to someone who can give us irrefutable proof, proof even Father cannot ignore."

"You intend to help me?" Loki whispered. "Then…then you believe me?"

After a long moment, where blue eyes locked with tortured green, Thor nodded. "I believe you, Brother…and I am truly sorry."

Loki looked away, as if he couldn't bear to see the depth of his older brother's regret. One arm came up to cover his eyes. "Whose aid do you seek?"

"The Man of Iron; I think he holds Nicholas Fury in the same contempt as you."

"Ah," Loki said. "The man of the rapier wit in his Midgardian armor. The only one immune to the Chitauri staff."

Something about that caught at Thor's attention. Cautiously, he said, "It seemed to do you no real harm. It lent you a great deal of power. Were you not immune to it?"

A heavy sigh. "No…no, I do not think I was, really. Thea warned me not to touch it when they gave it to me. She said to try not to use it. I kept it away from her, because we didn't know what it might do to…but Thea didn't trust it. And when I used it, when I even so much as held it, I…I don't know. It seemed to whisper to me, to taunt me with my fears of failing. My fears of losing my love and my child. And it filled me with such _rage_…"

Seizing the moment, since Loki had brought up Thea on his own, Thor asked, "Brother, why did you join with the Chitauri? You said yourself that so long as you had Thea, you could endure any of their tortures. Why then did you go to them?"

"Because of Sophie," Loki rasped. "I had to, for Sophie. They…the Chitauri meant to…they were going to kill Sophie, and Thea. I couldn't let them. I had to…" Loki sucked in a sharp breath and bared his teeth in a snarling grimace. He wrenched his arm from across his eyes and sat up abruptly, breathing hard. "They took her from me. Nearly four weeks after our wedding, they took my wife from me, ripped her from my arms the very day she told me…"

**.**

_It was always a wrench, to be forced to sleep alone in his cell after making love to Thea. It was too dangerous, they both knew that; they couldn't fall asleep together in the same prison cell or the Chitauri might learn of the hole in the wall. So far they hadn't seemed to notice, which was so strange, but Loki clung to the hope that it was just luck. They were due for a bit of luck. But even though they couldn't sleep in each other's arms, Loki would always hold Thea's hand through the hole in the wall as they drifted into slumber. At least he had that._

_And for now, he had his wife. Thea lay in his arms, her arms around him; they lay tangled together in the dim glow of two new flashlights, the bedroll soft beneath their bodies, with Thea's head on Loki's shoulder. He stroked a gentle hand down her back._

_Anger and unease always twined together like hot wires in his belly when his fingers found the delicate ridges of her vertebrae._ _She was so thin. Too thin. They'd stretched out her energy bars as long as possible but they'd run out weeks ago. Her skin, however, remained soft beneath the dirt despite the press of bones. Lotion, she claimed. Just a touch of it every other day. It was what had made her smell so sweet their first night together._

"_You are so beautiful," Loki whispered, nuzzling her cheek. She sighed and cuddled closer to him, blissful and sleepy._

"_You're not too bad looking yourself. I'm so lucky my husband is hot. Man, I love saying that—my husband. When we get out of here and get home, all the girls at work are going to be so, so jelly. I'm just gonna be like, 'Well, go get kidnapped by aliens. Maybe they'll be a smokin' hot alien for you to marry.' Of course, everyone knows that I drink Felix Felicious—or whatever that stuff in Harry Potter is called—by the bucketful, which is totally dangerous, but makes you super lucky. Why don't I ever gamble after drinking that stuff? I could become a billionaire. I'd never have to work again. Oh, ew. That would be boring. I'd die. I'd become a zombie." She pressed her forehead against Loki's jaw as her fingertips whispered along his collarbone. "Would I be a cute zombie? Would you still love me if I had an unholy craving for brains?"_

_He kissed her forehead. "I would love you even if you became one of those sex-crazed tentacle-monsters you told me about."_

_She laughed. "Oh, hardships for you. It would be so difficult for you if I became a sex-crazed monster. What would ever become of you? Hmmm?"_

"_I could do without the tentacles."_

_Thea seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I could see that. So you'd love me even if I was a zombie. Hmmm. You know, if I became a zombie, I would try really hard not to eat you. I promise. Even though you'd taste delicious."_

"_How can you be sure I would?"_

"_Because I'd be a magician zombie and still have my amazing powers, so when I took bites out of you, you'd taste like Skittles. Hey, wait." Her eyes lit up. "Oh, my gosh. I feel so dumb. I can_ totally _make you taste like Skittles. I could do that if I wanted to. I'm gonna do that."_

_Loki frowned. "Why would you…are you biting me?"_

"_It was a love nip," she informed him haughtily. "On your shoulder. You know you liked it. Don't you remember when I happy-smacked you in the face with the snowballs? You know you liked that, too. You're a masochist. A sexy, sexy masochist with an adorable dimple in your cheek, and the most gorgeous…green…eyes. Which reminds me, I…have to...tell you...something...Loki, I'm talking."_

"_I'm listening," he murmured. And he was. Honestly. But he was also busy with…other things._

"_I can't talk when you do that."_

"_You're doing fine."_

"_What was I saying?"_

"_I'm sure you'll remember shortly."_

"_I don't think I will. Stop with the lips. That's my neck. My neck! That's my jaw. And my ear. Don't…I mean…I mean…I lost my train of thought. What was I saying? I forgot because you're…kissing my…ear…meh…"_

"_Just relax, darling."_

"_But I have to tell you something important," she protested feebly._

_Nuzzling her throat, he murmured, "Tell me."_

"_I can't, you're distracting me."_

"_If it is about my dimples, I'm sure it can wait. Your neck, however, can't. It's quite the temptation. And this spot just here." His lips moved to her jaw and she squeaked, then sighed and melted. "I love you," he added, nuzzling the spot in question. "So much, Thea."_

"_I love you, too, but I…really_…really _need to tell you something important!"_

_With a groan, Loki dropped his forehead to her shoulder. He wanted his wife. He didn't think there would ever come a time where he_ didn't _want her. It was torturous, not being able to be with her in all the ways he wanted, whenever he wanted. It infuriated him that because of the Chitauri, he couldn't take his beloved to see all the wonders of his Realm. But whatever it was had to be_ truly _important, because Thea wanted him at least as badly as he wanted her._

"_What is it_, suetyng?"

"_Well…okay. So I don't know why this never occurred to either of us. It probably should have…but it didn't. So we're both kind of, like…well, anyway. We messed up, did a dumb thing. It's a great dumb thing, but the timing stucks. Stinks. Sorry. I tried to say 'sucks' and 'stinks' at the same time. I'm flustered. Anyway, and I'm happy, but I'm freaking out, and I don't want you to be mad, okay? Please don't be mad."_

_Baffled, Loki propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. "Why would I be angry with you? What could you possibly have done?"_

"_Promise you won't get mad? Because if you got mad I'd have to go find my misery-ditch and bury myself in it to die, and I don't have any jelly beans. Ohmigawd, now I want jelly beans, which wouldn't be a big deal usually but I_ really _want jelly beans because of the thing I have to tell you and I'm babbling again. Stop it, Thea. Focus. I'm freaking. Babbling. I'm sorry, I know you were trying to be romantic and I know that you really, really don't need this and I just need to spit it out but I can't because I'm scared and—"_

"Älskling," _Loki interrupted, cupping her cheek. "You needn't be afraid to tell me anything. Anything at all. What is it? What's wrong?"_

"_Well, we're trapped here, and the Chitauri don't know we can talk to each other and stuff, and I really wish I could do this whole thing at home, maybe in a hospital. A nice, shiny, clean hospital. Or in my room. I miss my room. I had this ridiculous Winnie the Pooh wallpaper and I always wanted to take it down but you know what? I will paper my house with that stuff when I get home or maybe something Calvin and Hobbes-ish because it's better than stone walls and darkness and ohmigawd Loki I'm pregnant."_

_He blinked, unable to process everything she'd said. Something about wallpaper and hospitals and…wait. No. No, she couldn't possibly have said what he thought she'd said. She couldn't have. "What?" He breathed._

_Tearfully, she whispered, "I'm pregnant."_

_The bottom fell out of Loki's world. He stared at Thea's face, tracing every contour, every feature. Tears welled up in her eyes, but didn't fall. For the first time, he saw pure and unadulterated terror on her face._

"_You're pregnant?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't even_ think_—"_

"_Stop it." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to him, letting her bury her face against his chest. "Stop. It isn't your fault, it's mine. I…I should have thought of this. I did not even think. I'm so sorry, Thea. I'm sorry. It's all right, though. It will be all right." Though he couldn't see how, and he knew she knew that. He knew there was no way to make this all right._

_A child. A child? How could she carry a child in this place? It would die, here away from the sun and fresh air, without proper food or water. It would die in the womb. She would lose a baby conceived in this darkness. They would lose the child._

_What was he supposed to do? He couldn't even protect_ her; _how was he supposed to protect their baby? He'd always longed for a family, for a wife and children, but never thought that he could have one. Not with how the women of Asgard secretly disdained him. And now..._

"_Are you certain?" He asked, praying for it not to be true. How could he have been so reckless? He was no better than Thor, endangering the people he loved most for the sake of insignificant nothings. "Are you certain, Thea?"_

"_Almost a hundred percent. My body's been…acting weird. My period's late. It was supposed to be more than three weeks ago. I've been feeling kind of sick the last couple weeks, too. I think…I think it was the first night. Our wedding night. I think that's when…Loki, what are we going to do? I mean…my powers are going to go ballistic. That always happens to mutants when they're pregnant. I don't know what will happen. And trapped in here, the baby could die. I could die. We_ both _could, me_ and _the baby. I can't have a baby in here. This place is a box. I'm going to turn into a whale. I'm going to be Shamoo. I won't be able to climb through the hole to get help from you once I turn into whale._

"_Oh, man, I'm hyperventilating. Make me stop. Slap me, I'm hysterical. No, don't slap me, I'll cry and you'll hate yourself. Just…I need chocolate. Fatty, sugary, melty chocolate. I need to go swim in chocolate. Fifty laps should do it. Yeah. Fifty laps of chocolate. It's like_ Fifty Shades of Gray, _but better. And tasty. And I can't have a baby in this freaking pit of dark despair! I don't even have an albino to complain to! Why am I in the pit of despair? This is not_ The Princess Bride _and I am having a spaz attack, maybe you should slap me."_

_He cradled her, clasping her to him. "It's all right, Thea." An idea was slowly easing its way out of the depths of him, weighing down his bones with pain. A terrible, impossible, cruel idea. It was a way…a way to protect his wife and unborn child, but…but he couldn't. He couldn't possibly…"It will be all right."_

"_No, it won't. Yes, it will. Stop that, Thea. Stop." She pressed a hand against her forehead. "Stop that. It will be fine. I am a queen. I am a love goddess. I am an Amazonian love warrior. My hair is fabulous, my teeth are perfect, my eyes are blue, and everyone and their dog thinks I'm the best thing since pineapple pizza. I am incredible. I am a star. And I will kick the Chitauri's butts because I'm _pregnant in this teensy, weensy hell box! _Thea, stop freaking out!" She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. "I'm okay. Okay. I'm okay. Happy thoughts. Strawberry sundaes. Marshmallows. Dead Chitauri. Bubbles. Balloon animals. Loki's smile. Cliff-diving. Sex." She pulled her hands away from her face, blinking. "Never mind, that wasn't supposed to come out. I mean, that's a happy thought," she flicked her eyes at her husband, "a_ really _happy thought, but I didn't mean to say that because now I'm blushing. Ugh, I'm pregnant. I want my mom."_

"_I'm here," Loki said, because he couldn't really think of anything else to say when his own fear pulsed like an infection through his blood with every beat of his heart. And she seemed to be slowly calming herself down on her own. "I'm with you, my love. I won't leave you. I'll…" Even though he knew it wasn't a promise he could keep, he said, "I'll protect you, Althea."_

"_Okay. Yeah. I have you. I'm okay because I have you. I'm always okay if you're here. I'm okay...no, I'm not. Loki, I'm kinda scared. No, I'm really scared. I'm freaking out. Major spazzing. Could you hold me? Please?"_

_Of course he couldn't simply hold her. Not when she trembled with fear and tears still glimmered in her eyes. He had to kiss her cheeks when the tears fell, had to stroke warmth back into her fear-chilled skin. They made love again, because he had to comfort her; the need drove him like a compulsion spell burning in his skull. Afterward they dressed in silence heavy with dread. Once she was dressed, Thea crawled over to him and curled up against him. He gently stroked her hair._

"_I'm sorry," he said. "I am so very sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"_

"_I love you," she whispered. "There's nothing to forgive. I love you so much, I…we both did something dumb. It's this place. It makes us reckless. But it's not your fault. I love you."_

_He opened his mouth to say something, though he didn't know what, and that was when they heard the footsteps in the corridor outside. They both froze, then Thea jerked back, turning to try and scramble through the hole in the wall back to her cell. But before she could, the door to Loki's cell flew open, crashing into the wall._

_It wasn't the Chitauri this time. At least, they weren't alone, though they bristled with weapons and fangs and claws behind the shadow in front of them. Thea gasped and shrank back, pressing against the far wall. Loki's blood ran cold as Jötunheim when he saw the eyeless beast grinning at him from the doorway of his tiny prison. Lunging between Thanos' lieutenant and Thea, Loki bared his teeth and summoned the tiny sparks of_ seiðr _he could muster. It was a pathetic attempt, but he would never simply stand back and allow this monster to hurt his wife._

"_You played right into our hands," the Other growled, still grinning at the prince. "Both of you. Dangle a companion in front of your face and like a pathetic and lonely child you reach out and take it right to your heart. We have no need to exert ourselves unduly when your own actions poison your resolve."_

_Thea sucked in a breath. "What?_ What?"

"_Don't you touch her," Loki snarled, preparing to spring at his opponent if he so much as twitched. "I will kill you if you touch her."_

"_You can try," the Other replied. "If you were at full strength, you might even succeed…but you're not, and so you and she are_ both _at my mercy. Take them!" He roared to his soldiers, and they surged around him and into the cell like a plague of demonic locusts. Loki struck at them with power and muscle, but he was too weak to do aught by delay them. He heard Thea screaming, tried to get to her, but a blow struck him in the temple—a fatal blow for a Midgardian, though it only knocked him to his knees. Darkness spread across Loki's vision, and the last thing he heard was Thea shrieking his name._

**.**

_When he awoke at last, he found himself chained to a familiar wall of damp, mildewed stone—the same wall they always chained him to when they intended to torture him. Loki tried to shake away the cobwebs and shadows in his skull, but talons raked wicked hot furrows across his brain at the movement. He groaned and tried to hold completely still until the agony faded._

"_Loki?" The soft, tense voice jerked him from the haze of pain. Terror clamped down like a vise around his heart. No. No, not this. Not here. He lifted his head to see Thea laid out on a stone slab, tied with black ropes that cut cruelly into her wrists and ankles. Blood seeped from beneath the ropes; she'd been struggling. Bruises marred her beautiful face. A cut over one eye seeped more blood. The sullen glow of a smoky fire in a long, stone trough along one wall illuminated her completely. "Loki!"_

"_Thea," he gasped, trying to breathe around the lump of fear lodged like a jagged bone in his throat. "Thea, it will be all right." He couldn't bear the terror in her face. What had they done to her while he'd been unconscious? Was she all right? Was the baby all right?_

_The baby. Had the Chitauri heard Thea's confession? What would they do to the baby if they knew?_

_"It will be all right_, älskling."

"_No," a cold, hollow voice informed him. Every muscle in Loki's body tensed at the sound of that voice. The Other. "No, it won't be all right…unless you do as we have asked you to do for the last several moons and give us what we want, Odinson." The Other glided into the room, silent as a snake, dark as a shadow. Thea's eyes widened and she swallowed hard. Loki narrowed his eyes and strained at his chains, to no avail. The poison coating the rough metal seared his skin. "With your power, Odinson, we could conquer Midgard_ and _Asgard. You would have Midgard to rule. You would be king there, your mate a queen."_

_The Other trailed a single dark claw down Thea's cheek. Instead of flinching, as Loki expected, she tried to bite him. The Other snatched his hand back, clearly surprised. Then the eldritch creature whipped his hand across her face, savagely backhanding her. The blow opened up a long cut in her fragile flesh._

"_Don't touch her!" Loki roared._

_Thea spit a mouthful of blood and muttered, "Wow. You slap like a girl. Douche bag."_

_The Other turned to Loki. "Your mate needs to learn respect."_

"_You're a deranged alien Cyclops with really bad leprosy who learned his bad-guy lines from crappy movies. Not much to respect there."_

_Loki's heart lurched into his throat. Why was she antagonizing the eldritch lieutenant? Always before, she'd begun screaming so soon after they'd taken her, but now…now she acted as if they had no power to do her harm. Why? They would only hurt her worse, didn't she realize that?_

_And then, when she looked at him—just a swift glance full of love that pierced him to the soul—he realized why she was acting so brave, so unafraid. It was because of him. She would always be brave for him, because she loved him. That was simply who she was._

_"And you suck," Thea added. "And you're ugly. During a zombie apocalypse, your girlfriend ought to take you to Canada. Moose country. You'd fit right in. You kinda look like a zombie moose."_

"_Silence, human."_

"_Can't; I'd be doing a disservice to my husband. I can't imagine what kind of torture listening to you talk constitutes, but it's probably prohibited by the Geneva Convention. You sound like the Count from_ Sesame Street…_except, you know, lame. One, two, three, ah-ah-ah, and all that crap. Seriously, voice lessons. They'd do wonders for your intimidation. Or you could just, you know, do me a favor and off yourself. Loki, don't listen to him! He works for the Easter Mafia! He's wearing pink spandex under that tatty, lice-infested ro—"_

_Another slap should have silenced her; it seemed to daze her for a moment, and her lip oozed blood, but she blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. Then, looking right at Thanos' lieutenant, she said, "You're just jealous of my face. Don't be a hater just 'cause I'm prettier than you. Try some acne cream; it might help your complexion. Or you could wear a bag over your head. Screw you very much. Love, nobody in their right minds. Super douche. You're worse than my mom's ex-husband."_

_There was a heavy silence in the room for a long moment; Loki counted his pounding heartbeats as icy sweat ran in frigid rivulets down his brow and temples. Then the Other said, "Your mate's amusing commentary aside, Odinson, if you do not agree to serve the mighty Thanos, we will kill her, and the child she carries. We will torture your mate to death, and we will make you watch. We will drown you in her screams. You will watch the life fade from her eyes, and then we will throw you away into a darkness so deep you will never see daylight again."_

_Loki's heart stopped. Thea…and the child…Thea…but…he could not condemn those people to death. He could not agree to invade a helpless Realm, no matter how far beneath his own. Thea's Realm. And he couldn't betray his home…but Thea…their child…_

"_The answer's no," Thea said before Loki could speak. His eyes widened and he stared at her. Didn't she understand what the Chitauri would do? They weren't bluffing, didn't she understand that? Yes, she did; he could see it in her too-wide eyes. She knew what she was sacrificing. She_ knew. _And the sacrifice would cost her dearly, but she would do what was right. "Along with me high-fiving you," Thea added. "In the face. With a really big chair covered in razor-sharp, poisoned spikes. So why don't you take a sugar-frosted dive off the end of my—"_

"_We shall see," the Other hissed. He wasn't looking at Thea, but at Loki, and a cold poisonous horror stole through Loki's very bones. "We shall see how long you can last listening to her screams."_

_How she held out for the hours she did, Loki didn't know. But it took the Chitauri longer than it ever had before to drag the first real, unmuffled cry of pain from her; she'd locked all the others thus far behind her clenched teeth. Yet in the end, they ripped it from her, a shrill, agonized scream that seemed to tear her throat as it burst from her mouth._

_When Thea began to scream again and again, unable to stop under the onslaught of the pain, Loki wondered how long he could bear it. Not long, he thought numbly, jerking at his chains until blood sheeted down his arms from his lacerated wrists as he struggled to get to her, to stop them. But she was struggling so hard to be brave. So hard. He couldn't give in when she was trying so desperately to be strong. He had to be strong, too. He had to be, even as his heart bled and he raged at the Other._

_And when she started to sob, begging for them to stop, to please just stop, his bleeding heart shattered, slicing him with the jagged pieces. Icy tears trailed down his cheeks as Thea writhed and wept and pleaded. Yet she never called out for him. Even in her agony, she tried to make it better for him. If she cried out for Loki, she knew that he would never be able to hold out._

_There was a moment where he wavered, where temptation beckoned to him. He could end it. He_ could. _But then Thea looked into his eyes, her gaze so sweet and gentle despite the pain, and she shook her head. Blood trickled down her face, mixing with her tears. Loki yearned toward her, shaking._

_"Don't do it," she mouthed to him. His heart knifed sideways in his chest. Cold, barbed wire wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing. Thea shook her head again. Silently she mouthed, "No." Then, somehow, she managed to twist her lips into the ghost of a smile. "It's okay," she whispered. The Chitauri paused in their tortures; were they as stunned as the green-eyed prince? "It's okay," Thea breathed. "Hold on. It's okay."_

_"Thea," he whispered. "Thea…" She was begging him not to give in. Begging him to be strong. He had to do as she asked. He was a prince of Asgard. He was a son of Odin. Betrayed, perhaps, but he would not sacrifice his people or Thea's to the horrors of the Chitauri._

_Chest tight and throat raw from swallowing sorrow and salt, Loki nodded._

_"I love you," Thea mouthed._

_Loki nearly broke. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered, "I love you." A tear rolled down his cheek, stinging in the various cuts on his face._

_The Other looked between the two of them in silent contemplation, then suddenly smiled. "Increase power," he ordered his drones. "Don't stop until her voice is gone."_

_"No," Loki gasped. Thea caught his eye, piercing him with an imploring look_. Be strong, _she silently begged him_. Don't give in. Please. _He drew a breath that threatened to strangle him and whispered, "I'm here, Thea. I'm here." She nodded…and then, as the Chitauri set to work, she began to scream again._

_When his wife's voice faded away at last and she simply lay there beneath the Chitauri tortures, blank-eyed and remote beneath the pain of their blades and their shock-staves, a terrible certainty gripped his heart and shattered his resolve. She couldn't be…they couldn't have…was she…were she and the child…no. No, no, they_ couldn't _be…_

_Loki sank to his knees, terror and despair choking him, and roared, "_Enough!_"_

_Silently he begged_, Thea, hold on. Please. Please, hold on. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love, but I cannot lose you. I can't. Rally for me. You must, please. Thea…Thea, you cannot be…Thea, please! _She didn't move, even when one of the Chitauri jabbed her again with the shock-stave. Her body didn't even react to the vicious jolt of pain_. Thea…

_The Other held up a hand. The Chitauri paused. The hideous lieutenant whispered, "Oh? Enough, is it? Are you certain?"_

Thea, _Loki thought, gazing past the Other to his wife lying motionless, eyes unseeing on the slab of stone. Tears spilled unnoticed from the corners of her blank eyes to trickle over her temples and wet her hair. Blood oozed from a thousand savage cuts. Her chest rose and fell in swift jerking motions as the breath shuddered in her throat. All he could think of was darkness, empty and lonely blackness, and a vow that he would be with her when she died. He'd sworn to her and now she was…she was…Now there would be nothing but a tenebrous hell, alone with only his memories of her screams, and she was…their child was_…Thea, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Thea…my love…my love, please…please, beloved, don't leave me!

_As if from far away, he saw Thea's chest suddenly rise and fall, her first deep breath in hours. She blinked once. Hope sparked to life in Loki's chest._ _But aloud, the prince of Asgard whispered, "Enough. Please, enough. Spare her, spare my child, and I will give you what you wish. Command me; I am yours."_

_And he_ would _be theirs…until he and Thea escaped this place. And they_ would _escape. He wouldn't rest until they got away from this hell and made it to Midgard. Then they would at last be safe. At last, they would be safe and happy, the two of them and their child. He just had to lull the Chitauri into a false sense of security and escape. If they could only get away, it would be all right._

_It had to be all right. There was no other option._

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_**Author's Note**__: so Thea and Loki's story isn't done yet. Not by a long shot. But things in the outside world are bound to be picking up now that Víðarr has gone to Midgard. What's gonna happen? Will Thor and Loki manage to convince Odin? Will they manage to track down Thanos and wreak vengeance for Thea and Sophie? Or is LA going to pull a literary rabbit out of her hat? Here's an even better question - what do you guys_ want _to see? Let me know in your reviews. Hugs!_


	18. Falsehoods for a Purpose

_**Author's Note**__: so here we come with the next chapter! Who's excited? And we get to see 3 new people (cameos only, sorry, guys; this isn't_ really _a crossover). So everyone keep your eyes peeled. Love you all and enjoy! Huggles!_

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**Chapter Seventeen**

**Falsehoods for a Purpose**

_Loki held Thea close, bristling at the Chitauri drones jostling him down an unfamiliar, dimly-lit corridor. He didn't care what they wanted. He would move at his own pace, curse them, to keep Thea steady in his arms._

She'd fallen unconscious a few moments after Loki's surrender. In a way, that was a comfort. Before that, her total lack of response had terrified him. Her shallow, rapid breathing; the waxen pallor of her skin; her blank, glassy eyes like a doll's…all of it had sent a terrible thrill of fear through him, slicing like a blade of ice. Now her color was starting to return somewhat to normal. She was still pale from months locked away from the sun, but she didn't look like death anymore. Her breathing had evened out. Her dark lashes stood out starkly against her pale, pale cheeks as she lay in a swoon in Loki's arms.

The Chitauri continued to hiss and chitter at him, trying to make him move faster. The Other walked ahead, neither fast nor slow, and didn't seem to care at what pace the green-eyed prince moved. He didn't turn around to rebuke the Chitauri for their impatience, though Loki noticed the drones kept watchful eyes on Thanos' lieutenant.

It was all Loki could do to put his feet evenly. During the fight in his cell, he'd taken several blows to the ribs. The bones were broken again. Cracked, at least. Breathing sent a wash of red-hot agony blazing through his chest. White sparkles dazzled around the edges of his vision. His head swam with dizziness and adrenaline. His wrists, ankles, and neck burned where the poisoned manacles had touched his flesh. Only the need to make sure Thea was safe kept him on his feet. If he'd been alone, the Chitauri would've no doubt had to drag him to whatever new prison they had in store for them both.

At last they brought the prince and his wife to a door. The Other waved a negligent hand, and the door slid open. Turning to Loki, the eyeless monster made an elegant "after-you" gesture. One eye on his tormentor, Loki stepped through the door…and stopped short.

"These are quarters befitting a Chitauri general," the Other croaked. Loki barely heard him. "You will be summoned later, once you and your mate have rested." And the doors slid shut with a hiss. Loki stared at the room in front of him.

It had been a very long time since he'd seen a real bed. This one was built in the four-poster, curtained fashion of the beds of Asgard, of polished ebony with thick, emerald velvet drapes and emerald linens, heaped with pillows. It looked impossibly soft. Two black clothespresses sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. White candles burned gently in gold candleholders on an ebony table laden with…food.

Food.

Saliva flooded Loki's mouth and a cramp of hunger gripped his belly like a fist. He could smell the meal laid out on the tabletop: steamed vegetables, sweet fruits, savory meats, fresh-baked breads. Chitauri didn't eat like this…but perhaps Thanos and some of his commanding officers did.

But the meal wasn't the best part of the fare laid out. In the center of the table, amidst a variety of dishes, sat a basket of the Golden Apples of Iðunn. _But how…?_

Thea stirred in his arms, bringing him back to the present. With exquisite care, he laid his wife carefully on the bed, brushing the hair from her face. Her cheeks were clammy; the very beginnings of shock, he thought. Ribs still screaming, dread gnawing at him, Loki turned to the laden table. He had a thimbleful of magic left. Enough, he was certain, to test the Apples and see if they were what he thought they were. Because if they were, he needed to eat one immediately in order to restore more of his magic so that he might attend to Thea.

Drawing on his seiðr, _Loki touched one faintly glowing Apple. Immediately a hum of familiar power flowed from his fingertip over his hand and up his arm. Green eyes widened in shock. With a muffled groan of relief, Loki snatched up one of the Apples and bit into it. Healing_ seiðr _flooded his body as he devoured the fruit. He could feel his ribs knitting back together, feel the pain fading, the health slowly returning to him, and the power seeping into his body. Not much, but enough._

Cutting a slice from another of the powerful Apples, he went back to Thea. "Thea? Suetyng? _Wake up, love." She moaned softly and her lashes fluttered. Her breathing deepened. Her eyes opened and she focused with difficulty on his face. How badly was she hurt? "You must eat, Thea. This will help you. Come on." With some difficulty, he managed to coax her into eating the Apple in small slices. She was worse off than he was, so the effects weren't as immediate, but he could see the pain fading from her body as her muscles relaxed and she closed her eyes. Slowly the bruises began to fade._

In order to do what he needed to do next, Loki had to use the magic of two more of the Apples. Drawing on just a touch of magic—he didn't have much left at all, even with the help of the Asgardian fruit—he scanned her body for any serious injury, focusing most of his attention on searching for the small life they believed she carried.

And there it was. A tiny heartbeat. Emotion clogged Loki's throat and stung his eyes; he bowed his head and tried to keep from shaming himself with tears. A child. A baby, nestled deep within Thea's body. He had a child. It was so small, so fragile, and that tiny heartbeat fluttered like butterfly wings against Loki's sensing spell.

A child. He had a child.

Sweat dripped down his temples and forehead as he forced almost the very last of his magic to cocoon the unborn child in Thea's womb, to protect it. It was merely a precaution, on the off-chance the Chitauri decided torturing his pregnant wife and killing their baby would make good sport.

Black fire pulsed through him in time with his heartbeat as he thought of what the Other had done, what he'd tried to do. Loki gritted his teeth. His wife. His child. That monster had dared threaten his wife and child. No. He would never _let anything happen to them. To either of them. Thanos and his Other could have Thea and the baby over Loki's dead body…and it would take a great deal to kill the son of Odin._

Swallowing back the rage, he shoved away from the bed and stalked to the table to grab another Apple. One Apple, or two, or even three wouldn't heal the damage done over the last…how long had it been? He quickly counted up the months as best he could. A year. It had been nearly a year for him. He was in no shape to fight back yet. Neither of them were.

It would still take several weeks for his magic to return completely, and only then would he perhaps be able to get himself and Thea out of the Chitauri stronghold. He wondered if the Other knew that. Was that why he wasn't afraid to give Loki the restorative Apples? Where had he even come by them?

But at least his body was mending now. It would be easier to protect and care for Thea.

As if thinking her name had reminded her of him, she half-sat up, moaning softly. "Loki," she whispered, wrenching his heart. Her arms trembled, unable to support her, and she fell back to the bed. "Loki, don't…don't…"

He was at her side in three swift paces. The impossibly soft mattress dipped beneath his weight as he seated himself next to her. Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips. "I'm here, Thea," he murmured. "It's all right. We're all right for now." He allowed his fingers to trail along her other cheek, only to find it sticky with blood. Frowning, Loki peered at it. A long, jagged cut marred the delicate skin over one cheekbone. The Apple should have healed such a superficial wound already. So why...?

"Ow," Thea mumbled. She grimaced, then sorrow-gray eyes fixed on Loki's face. "My face kind of hurts. So does the rest of me. But my face really _hurts…" Then her eyes snapped wide and she bolted upright. "Loki! Ow," she hissed, hunching and falling back to the mattress again. "Oh, ow. Ow. Oh, they really did a number on me this time. What happened? The baby!" She shifted, grasping his shirtsleeve with one shaking hand. "The baby, is she all right? Did…did I mis…" She couldn't go on as terror filled her face._

"Our child is fine," Loki soothed, cupping her uninjured cheek. Only the baby's Asgardian and Jötunn blood had protected it, but the baby was _fine. "Don't worry, my love. Our little one is just fine." Then he frowned. "'She?' How do you know it is a girl?"_

Thea blinked. "Um…I just…I don't know. I just feel like she's a girl. I was thinking about her, before…when the Chitauri…" Tears spilled down the freckled cheeks and Loki moved closer, sliding one arm under his wife to pull her against his chest. Thea's head fell heavily against his shoulder. "Loki," she whispered. "Loki, you can't do it. You can't."

He didn't have to ask what she meant. He didn't even attempt to feign ignorance. He knew what Thea was talking about. "Althea, our child—"

She shook her head, crying harder. Her tears soaked his shirt. "You can't do it, Loki. You can't. You can't let those things invade my planet. Your planet! They'll kill everyone. We can't let them. They're monsters, you can't—"

"Shhh," Loki whispered. Pressing his lips to her ear, stroking her hair with his free hand, he breathed, "I have no intention of allowing these demons to invade our Realms. But I had to stop them from hurting you. You would have lost the child. I would have lost both of you. I couldn't bear that. I am sorry, my love, sorry I'm not stronger, I thought I was, but I had to make them stop. I couldn't watch them hurt you like that. But I won't let them do what they plan. Keep crying, keep feigning upset. I believe we may be being watched. Continue to plead with me and listen. Once we are at full health, we are getting out of this place. We will escape and go to Midgard, we will warn Phil and his warriors of SHIELD what the Chitauri are planning, and we will be safe. I swear to you, suetyng, _I will do whatever it takes to protect you and our…our daughter."_

Thea looked at him for a long moment, wet-eyed, lips trembling, before burying her face in his chest. She didn't cry; merely clung to him with all the strength in her, as if she couldn't bear to ever let him go. Loki pressed his cheek to her hair and rubbed her back. He could feel her ribs pressing against her skin and through her thin shirt. She was so thin. The first thing they needed to do was eat. It had been many hours since they'd been fed last, and both Thea and the child needed more nourishment than the Asgardian fruit could provide.

Suddenly Thea pulled back from him and looked around. Scrubbing at her uninjured cheek with one fist, she muttered, "Um…where are we? This ain't exactly Kansas, here, Toto."

"Our new quarters, apparently," Loki said. Thea raised her eyebrows and whistled.

"Pretty fancy digs. And…I smell food. Am I having a sensory hallucination, or is there food?" Her eyes widened when Loki gestured to the table. "Holy pineapple cheesecake. Is that safe to eat? Or is it poisoned? Do I care if it's poisoned? I'd have to think about that, I'm starving." Her stomach chose that moment to growl audibly. She glanced down and laid a hand against her lower belly, over the spot where their child grew. "Yes, I know you're hungry. Womb-service is running a little slow right now. Patience, young grasshopper." Loki realized she was talking to the baby. Looking back to him, Thea asked, "Do you know if it's poisoned?"

"Let me test it," Loki began, and Thea grabbed his sleeve again.

"No! I love you and all, and it's very flattering that you love me that much, but you're not eating poison for me. This isn't Peter Pan. _So don't even think about eating anything poisonous for me, Tinkerbell."_

"I meant with magic," Loki said dryly.

She blinked. "Oh. Right. Because that would make a crud-ton more sense than eating something that might be poisonous. Okay. Um, can you do that? I thought your magic…" She trailed off, staring at him, really seeing him for the first time. "Whoa. What happened to you? You look…you look different."

He knew he looked different. He felt _different. Four infusions of healing magic had filled out some of the flesh and muscle he'd lost; his face was no longer so gaunt, his eyes no longer so sunken, his ribs and vertebrae no longer so prominent. His magic was still just a series of tiny sparks crackling in his veins, but it didn't feel as if his very core were starving for_ seiðr. _Loki smiled wanly at Thea._

"Let me test the food," he said, and she nodded, looking a bit dazed.

_Using that much_ seiðr _when his body didn't quite have it felt like shoving needles into his veins. It left him sweating, gasping, but Thea and the baby needed food. More food than they'd been getting. He would provide for them. If that meant tapping his well of magic dry, then so be it._

"It is safe," he murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Come. We both need to eat."_  
__  
Thea staggered a little as she got up from the bed, but Loki caught her. With one arm around her, he escorted her to a chair. Shoving strings of dirty hair from her face, Thea stared with wide-eyed hunger at the food in front of her, trembling. Loki could understand. Before he let her touch anything, however, he picked up another of the Golden Apples and handed it to her._

"Where did…didn't you just give me one of…"

"Eat that, and you'll feel a great deal better," Loki commanded gently. "It will heal your body as well as your heart and mind." 

_Thea looked at the Apple for a moment, then began taking hasty bites of the shining, golden fruit. Even as the prince watched, fresh color flooded Thea's face and the sparkle came back into her eyes._

Loki dragged the chair opposite her around the table so he could sit beside her, and after making her eat another of the Apples, together they dined on real food for the first time in months. They ate slowly, however. Iðunn's Apples wouldn't make them sick—such was their magic—but regular food would if they ate too much too quickly. Loki knew better than to gorge himself after being starved, and he made certain his wife ate slowly as well, though their child insisted on more than the prince would've thought Thea could eat.

Their child. Thea carried their child. It was an unlooked-for miracle, light in the darkness of all that had occurred in the last several moons. How could he, Loki, have a child?

If they made it out of this place—no, not if, but when—_he would have to get word to his family somehow. Even if they wanted nothing to do with him after all that had happened, his parents deserved to know they had a grandchild. And his brothers…Tyr and Thor would be overjoyed. They both loved children; a strange thing for an Asgardian warrior, but something the two brothers had always had in common. And Balder loved children, as well. Surely his brothers, his parents, would want to be on good terms with Loki's daughter, at least._

"Are you feeling better?" He asked when Thea leaned back with a contented sigh. She nodded. "Shall we explore our quarters? Or do you need to rest?"

"Don't leave me," she said instantly. "A girl needs her stuffed animals. Or stuffed Lokis. Whichever. Stuffed Lokis are better. And pregnant chicks need their chocolate otter-penguins."

He forced a smile because anything else would make him fall to his knees before her, begging for forgiveness. He'd done this to her. He'd given the Chitauri a weakness to use against them both. How had they known when Thea had said she was with child? Were they watching him? Had they been watching him all this time? Then they'd known about the crack in the wall, known that Thea had widened it out, known that the two of them were spending time together, growing closer.

A sickening thought had icy rage crystallizing in his veins. If the Chitauri had been watching him, somehow, then they had seen when he'd comforted Thea in the darkness of his cell when the enemy had tortured her. They'd been watching the simple, impromptu wedding ceremony. And they'd been watching when Loki had made love to Thea for the first time. No, not just the first time. Every time. They'd been watching…__

No. He couldn't think about that. Couldn't think about anything but taking care of his wife, or the fury would swamp him, drag him down, and he'd be no better than Thor, charging into a battle fueled by nothing but bloodlust and stupidity. If he did that, he wouldn't make it out of this place alive.

But the sick sense of violation didn't fade simply because he willed it.

"If my guess is correct," Loki said, swallowing back fury, "there is a bathing room somewhere nearby. You might be able to have a bath."

Thea's eyes widened. Her expression reminded him of a kitten begging for a bowl of cream. "Bath?" Her arms crept around her torso and she hugged herself. "A bath is like happy-crack. Baths are like swimming in liquid bliss. I want a bath. With bubbles. Frothy pink bubbles that smell like strawberry shortcake. A plethora of bubbles. And hot water." Hope suffused her expression. "Bath. Oh-em-gee, I want. Like, desperately. I'd punch a shark to get a bath right now. Unless it was named Bruce. But I'd totally punch a shark if I could have a bath. I stink."

After a couple minutes of exploring, they were rewarded with the discovery of an Asgardian-style bathing room. An actual bathing room. Loki and Thea just stared at it for a long moment in shock. How long since they'd actually had actual baths, instead of the pitiful scrubbings the former mortal had insisted on to keep somewhat clean?

Towels had been laid out on the black marble counter beside the sinks. On top of the towels, Loki saw a clean black tunic, trousers, underthings, and socks for himself, and a smaller set of the same for Thea. Two pairs of boots sat on the floor just under where the clothes had been set. Loki glanced at Thea.

"They are trying to show us how we will be treated if we work with them," he told her softly. She nodded, chewing her bottom lip. Loki's eyes drifted to the still-unhealed cut on her cheek. It was deep, the surrounding flesh an angry red that was almost purple where it showed through the dried blood. He touched Thea's cheek, just under the cut. She flinched. "This needs to be cleansed." So did her other injuries, though for the most part the Chitauri had used their agonizing shock-staves to hurt her. Still, her shirt was sliced in places where they'd cut her, and the cuts hadn't healed yet.

Without another moment's hesitation, Loki turned on the taps. Crystalline water gushed forth into the massive tub and Loki was reminded of how thirsty he still was. They'd drunk their fill at the table, he and Thea, but he was still so dehydrated, still so thirsty. His throat burned at the thought of cool, sweet water. But he forced himself to ignore it and focused on his wife.

The candlelight from the wall-sconces was a soft golden glow, but it was still a bit brighter than the dim beams of the flashlights in their prison cells. Loki was in the middle of removing his tunic when he glanced at Thea, who stared at the water with obvious longing, but didn't move toward it. It was safe enough, so why did she hesitate?

She shot a shy glance at Loki, and he understood. He would see her more clearly in this moment than he ever had before, with the light so bright compared to what they were used to. She was afraid of his disgust.

Dropping his tunic to the floor, he reached out to her and drew her to him. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

Thea laughed softly. "Of course I am. I'm Aphrodite's cuter little sister that she's secretly jealous of. Duh. Even if I am skinny. I have the cutest rib-bones anyone's ever seen. You could make a xylophone out of me. I'd sell like hotcakes. And I finally have a twenty-inch waist. Wait…ew. I'll have to pig out on ice cream to get rid of that. I'm a skeleton." She batted her eyelashes at him. "You still think I'm cute, though, even though I'm all skele-bones."

"We will simply have to feed you up, then, to rid you of your…skele-bones."

She arched an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "Do you have a thing for fat chicks? Because you're going to need it when I become a whale."

_"You will not be a whale. You are with child. That is altogether different."_

"So I'll be a pregnant whale. Moby Preggers. I can rock that. And now I want chocolate for some reason." She glanced down at her belly. "Hey, midget. I know you're the one doing this. If I get fat from thinking about all this chocolate you want, you better be sweet to make up for it." Thea looked back at Loki. "And she's probably rubbing her little hands together, chuckling malevolently about how her nefarious plot to make mommy huge is slowly coming to fruition. Yes," she added, "I can use the word 'fruition' in regular conversation. I'm epic. My mind is like a steel trap and…Loki, I can…I can…do that myself—ohmigawsh, that tickles!"

Loki's fingers had touched the hem of her shirt and slowly began to slide it higher. Her skin was cool and soft beneath his fingertips. Her eyes had begun to unfocus when she she'd started stammering. Now he saw gooseflesh rise up on Thea's arms when he deliberately tickled one of the shallow grooves between her ribs in an attempt to make her smile.

"Yes, you can…but I do it so much better," he murmured. Thea shivered. In a more serious tone, he added, "I need to look at your injuries, älskling."__

Her smile held the faintest edge of mischief. "Will you be able to concentrate when I'm naked? I know I'm pretty hard to resist."

"That you are."

At first it was difficult for him to concentrate as he helped her remove her clothes, but the sight of the cuts and gashes still inexplicably covering her body, as well as the scars from past tortures, helped cool his ardor a little. She was so beautiful, but the sight of her filled him with half-mad rage. He helped her into the tub; she hissed when the steamy water made contact with her open wounds, then sighed and relaxed as the heat began loosening her tense muscles.

"Ohhh…oh, wow. Is there a washcloth? I need one. Like, for realsies. Oh, my gosh, I just said that. I sound like I'm ten. And is there soap? Oh, there is _soap. Heaven has found me at last. Soap, soap, soap. Happy-happy soap-ness."_

_"Soap-ness?" Loki asked, seating himself tailor-fashion beside the tub and handing her the cloth and soap. It was large enough that they could both fit, but they were both so filthy that the water would be black as pitch if they shared a bath, and they wouldn't get rid of all the grime. He would let her go first._

Thea stuck her nose in the air. "Soap-ness. It's like soap, except it comes from the Factory of Evil Products. Which is where this no doubt came from." She held up the bar of pale celadon soap. "Is it wrong to accept tributes from evil? Probably. But I want a bath. I'm disgusting. C'mere, soap. And even though this isn't the shower, I'm going to sing anyway, so I don't kill anyone. Violence in front of the baby is probably on the list of things not-to-do. Can you imagine, though?" Taking a breath, Thea ducked beneath the water and came up with her hair sopping wet. Using the soap—there was no shampoo, and her hair was filthy, so soap would have to do—she lathered her hair and began to scrub savagely. "We're on some mission of Goodness for the League of Rainbow Puppies and—"

"Rainbow puppies?" Loki choked out, laughing. Oh, here was his love, his brilliant and brave girl. Handing her a bone-white comb he'd found on the counter, he asked, "What in the Nine Realms is a rainbow puppy?"

She started tugging the comb through her wet hair. "They're like rainbow monkeys, except without the theme song."

"And what is a rainbow monkey?"

"You know. Like in the song. Let's see, how did that go?

"'Rainbow monkeys, rainbow monkeys!  
Oh so very loud and super-chunky.  
Spreading love wherever they go!  
Everybody loves a big rainbow!

"With green and orange,  
And pink and blue!  
Rainbow monkeys, rainbow monkeys,  
We love you!'"__

Thea smiled at Loki, the sparkle of impish delight glinting in her silver-blue eyes. "Do you feel traumatized yet? Have I scarred your masculinity for life? Do you feel the sudden urge to go barf rainbow sprinkles shaped like daisies and hearts?"

Loki just looked at her for a long moment, then dropped his face into his hands and laughed helplessly. It should have been impossible to laugh after everything that had happened. With all the darkness looming in on every side, there should have been nothing to laugh at here. Yet Thea could still make him laugh when she tried. Was it any wonder he loved her? How did she do it?

_There was a splash of water, and Loki looked up to see Thea, arms folded on the edge of the tub and her chin resting on her arms, watching him. He smiled at her. "_Jag älskar dig." _It was rare for him to use the language of the Asgardians, but sometimes he would. In the tongue of Asgard, he had said simply, "I love you.__"_

She grinned. "Of course you do. I'm like a Christmas present, except with a mouth that spews itsy-witsy pink pearls of wisdom. I love you, too. I don't know what I'd do without you. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Can you imagine we're on a mission of Epical Goodness for the League of Rainbow Puppies and we can't get a sitter, so we take the baby with us? And we're kicking bad-guy butts like the gung-ho ninjas we are, and the whole time, the baby's just laughing her head off like it's some big, fun thing. That would be hilarious. And really, really scary and dumb of us. But still kind of funny. Now, I'm going to pretend the Chitauri are pigeons."

Loki blinked and frowned. "Why?"

"So I can sing 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park' and pretend I'm singing about the Chitauri. I'd like to poison them. I would love it. Love. With-sprinkles-on-top love."

_"Is that a lot of love?" He asked, smiling. Thea nodded._

"Heaps. It is a deep and abiding, fiery, passionate, half-insane love. I have a deep and abiding, fiery, passionate, half-insane but totally awesome-sauce love for poisoning the bucolic non-entities who kidnapped us because they suck. But 'Poisoning Chitauri in the Park' has too many syllables and doesn't rhyme with the other lines in the song."

"What song?"

"I have got to educate you. I've been neglecting your education. What's wrong with me? Oh, wait." She gave him a quick once-over. Though he'd shed his tunic, he still wore trousers and boots. "I forgot. It's not me, it's you, and your abs. Washboard." Her voice turned musing as she added, "Man, I like those."

"Washboards?"

"No, your abs," she said, laughing. "You are so ripped. Like, the perfect amount of ripped. I know I've mentioned this before."

He canted his head. "Yes, but generally it's when I'm otherwise engaged."

She narrowed her eyes. "So you're not paying attention when I tell you things?"

"You know very well that when I am otherwise occupied with having my incomparably beautiful wife in my arms and in my bed, my main focus is on making the woman I love very, very happy. And I always succeed."

Crimson spread across Thea's cheeks. "Yes," she squeaked, sinking up to her chin the water. She cleared her throat. "Yes, you do. Um. Is it hot in here? Yes, it is. I'm in the bathtub. Duh. I'm hot, of course, the water's hot. It's…stop looking at me like that."

"I can't," Loki replied, smiling. "You're beautiful."

"I'm covered in dirt, soap, dirty soap, and soapy dirt."

"Which is making it very difficult for me to remember why I should let you have the tub to yourself."

His fingers twitched as his gaze slid over her body. Thea flushed a deeper red and began scrubbing with the soaped-up washcloth, studiously avoiding his heated gaze, though a smile tugged at her lips. She was so lovely—what he could see of her: shoulders, part of her back, the slender column of her neck, her face, her long arms, and the very tops of her knees. Sudden wanting gripped him. He forced it down. They needed to clean up, both of them, and treat their wounds, before they did anything else.

"'Spring is here, spring is here!  
Life is Skittles and life is beer!  
I think the loveliest time of the year  
Is the spring.'"__

"Thea?" Loki asked, curious.

"Shhh. Singing about poisoning pigeons. Erm, Chitauri pigeons. Whatever. Just sit there and bask in my greatness.

"'But there's one thing that makes  
Spring complete for me  
And makes every Sunday  
A treat for me.

"'All the world seems in tune  
On a spring afternoon  
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

"'Every Sunday you'll see  
My sweetheart and me  
As we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

"'When they see us coming,  
The alien-birdies all try and hide,  
But they still go for space-peanuts  
When coated with cyanide…'"__

He'd been right. By the time Thea had cleaned every part of her body and combed nearly six months of tangles from her hair—and sung a song about atomic warfare, whatever that was—the water was the thick, murky gray of heavy storm clouds.

_When she'd finished drying off, Loki made sure to wash out the cuts on her back, arms, and legs one more time before she got dressed in the surprisingly comfortable black clothing. He paid extra attention to the deep cut on her cheek; it already seemed to be growing infected. Dragging at the very last drops of_ seiðr _he possessed, Loki laid in a small healing spell on the deep laceration, which left him trembling with exertion and short of breath. Some of the angry redness around the wound faded._

After draining the tub and rinsing away the layer of grime, Loki filled it again for himself while Thea got another of the Golden Apples. She ate quietly while Loki stripped and bathed, washing off a year's worth of muck and filth. He gave his hair a thorough and savage scrubbing, grateful at last to be truly clean.

Once clean and combed and dressed, his wounds tended, he and Thea sat on the bed and simply breathed. For once, they had nothing to do, and no idea what would happen next. Loki could feel the tension thrumming through his wife, though she kept a smile on her face. Only when she leaned toward him and dropped her head to his shoulder with a sigh did he realize how tense Thea truly was. He watched her turn the gold-and-emerald ring around and around on her left heart-finger.

"Loki…are you mad?"

He frowned. "About what?" He was enraged _about a good many things, all of them to do with the Chitauri, but he knew that wasn't what Thea meant._

"About the baby." He turned to her, wide-eyed, and she added, "I know, I know _the timing is bad. It's crazy-jacked-up terrible. I know. I'm sorry—"_

"Thea," he whispered, and she fell silent. Framing her face between his hands, he whispered, "Thea…I'm not angry about the child. I love you more than the breath in my chest and the beat of my heart. And this child…our daughter, you think…how could I not love her, too? The timing is bad, yes, but that isn't your fault. And I promise you, suetyng, _I will do whatever it takes to protect you both."_

She nodded, wiping away a stray tear that slipped down her cheek. Swallowing hard, voice wavering, she whispered, "I'm scared. I'm trying really hard not to be scared, but I am. Loki…I don't know how much time we have until that…that freak _comes back, and who knows if those sickos are spying on us, but…but I don't care, I…would you…I want…" Her fingers twisted into tight fists before she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, desperate and trembling and sweet. Thea tangled her fingers in his hair as Loki wrapped himself around her. "Don't let go," she pleaded against his lips. "Please."_

"Never," he whispered, letting her draw him down to the bed. "I will never let you go, my love."

**.**

"But I did," Loki whispered, staring into the dying flames on the hearth. "I promised her…and I failed her. I lost them both. I wasn't…" He pressed his lips so tight together they turned white and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if battling some savage, clawing emotion. Thor's throat tightened at the sight of his little brother's obvious pain. Loki drew a shuddering breath. "I wasn't strong enough to keep her safe. I loved her so much. I…I did, I loved her. And Sophie. But I…I just _couldn't_…I couldn't protect them." Loki shoved his hands through his hair with such viciousness, Thor winced. "Why didn't you kill me when I begged you to?" The prince demanded suddenly, electric blue gaze snapping to the Asgardian. "Why?"

Thor sighed. "I didn't understand the depths of…of your pain, Brother. And for that, I am truly sorry. That was when you knew, wasn't it? That was when they were killed."

"Yes," Loki rasped. "I made contact with the Other, to tell him I needed more time, and he…he said it was too late. They were already dead. I didn't believe him. I couldn't. They couldn't be…I demanded to see proof, and he showed me Hobbes."

The crown prince frowned. "Thea's stuffed tiger?"

"It was brought to her a few days after I agreed to join the Chitauri. It had been cleaned. She was so glad to have it back. I knew she wouldn't have parted with it willingly and…and it was spattered with her blood." Loki's face paled as he recounted, "It was fresh. So red. Deep red, bright, as if from a fatal wound. It lay on the floor in a pool of even more blood. I used my _seiðr_ to probe, to test, to see if it was hers. It was. Hers and Sophie's. There was so much of it, saturated with terrible pain and such terror…I heard her scream in my head…my fault. All my fault. And the Other knew about Coulson. He knew, and so I knew he was telling the truth about Thea."

Blue eyes widened. "Coulson? What about Coulson?"

"He knew that Coulson was supposed to…that he was my last resort. That if I feared I couldn't accomplish my task, I would need someone I could trust to...but we had to wait, we had to time it properly. I had the antidote; I just couldn't give it to her yet. We had to wait, because of Sophie. We loved her. We couldn't sacrifice her. We…Thea begged me. Begged me not to even consider…and I promised her…"

"Loki, what are you talking about?"

His brother surged to his feet, paced the length of his cell in swift, jerking strides. "I didn't want this," he whispered. "Any of it." He grabbed at his hair with a shaking hand; he stumbled when he turned to make a second trip across the cell. Thor saw Loki's eyes were vivid, incandescent blue, too similar to the glassy color he'd seen in the Midgardian archer and in Erik Selvig.

"I couldn't lose them," Loki rasped, tugging at his hair again. "I had nothing else. No one else. And Sophie…my little girl…my child. I couldn't let the Chitauri hurt her, I had to…but they anticipated me. Every move I made, they were always three steps ahead. I don't know how, I don't know why I couldn't just _think of something_ to save them…and now they're dead. Coulson failed, and I failed. The one person I could trust to ask for help and he failed, we both failed, and that _sound!_" Loki suddenly jerked to a halt, looking around wildly. His face was suffused with agony and terror. "No. No, not that sound. Please, I can't bear it any longer."

Thor pressed his palms to the ensorcelled glass, feeling the seiðr hum and prickle along his skin. The hair on his forearms stood on end. Striving for gentle firmness, he said, "Loki, there is no sound. It isn't real."

Loki opened his mouth, closed it. Squeezed his eyes shut. A violent shudder ripped through his body as he sank to the floor, back to the wall, and dropped his head back. "I know," he whispered. "I know, but it never stops. The crying. It won't stop. Thor, why won't you just end it? Why does Odin want me here?"

"Our father loves you," Thor said softly. Loki's entire body spasmed, as if it had tried to recoil from the words and he'd forced it abruptly to stillness. "He does not want to lose his son, my brother. Our mother does not wish to lose you, either. Not again. We mourned you once. Must we mourn you again?"

"None but you would mourn my loss," he whispered bitterly. Thor flinched. "And you wouldn't mourn for long. The one who would mourn me is long dead. I see her in my dreams, you know. Always. So pale…so deathly white. So cold. Yet still so beautiful. Almost as if all I need do is kiss her awake and she would draw breath. I walk through her tomb and always hear our daughter crying, my wife screaming, and see her corpse…Vengeance is no balm for that torment. That dream burns like black fire up and down my mind until I can't think or eat or breathe. I want her back, Thor. I just want her back."

Swallowing back pain and salt that had lodged like graveyard bones in his throat, Thor said, "I am so sorry, Brother. I'm sorry. I never wanted…" He had so many questions—about Coulson, mostly, and what Loki had meant, calling him the only person he could trust, and about Coulson's so called failure, and the Chitauri knowing about the SHIELD agent—but they were as nothing in the face of his brother's half-mad grief. "I'm sorry."

"Thor…do you believe me?" A taut, terrible expression crossed Loki's face as he stared at his brother with wide, too-intense eyes. "Do you believe me when I say I did not kill Coulson?"

Thor said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He had seen Loki stab him. If that blow hadn't been fatal, then mortals were even sturdier than Asgardians, and Thor knew that wasn't true. What could he say?

"I swear, Brother," the fostered prince whispered. "By the Norns themselves, and the Tapestry of Fate that they weave, I swear I did not kill the mortal known as Phillip Coulson. My strike did not kill him."

Wide-eyed, Thor swallowed. Loki couldn't make that oath. Swearing a false vow by the Norns was death. Not a death-sentence by law, but a vow unbreakable by the bonds of the very universe itself. The Norns themselves would cut the lifeline of any Asgardian who made that oath and broke it.

Yet Loki remained, breathing and broken still, in the prison cell. Which meant…which meant he was telling the truth. His strike hadn't killed the SHIELD agent.

But then…but then what had happened?

"Go, Thor," Loki murmured, bowing his head. "Leave me. Go to Midgard. Obtain your proof. Ask your questions. But I beg you, leave me in peace for now. I…I will sleep a little, I think."

And he knew that if he pushed Loki now, there would only be pain for both of them. So he simply asked, "Will you be able to sleep?"

Loki lifted exhausted, sunken eyes to Thor and scoffed. "Perhaps…if I get very, _very_ drunk first. But Thea hated alcohol…and yet…I'm so tired, Thor. So tired. Would you be a decent man and have the guards bring me something I can use to make myself very unconscious? Ale, perhaps. Or your hammer. Or a knife to draw across my throat. I don't care. Simply give me oblivion for a time. I can bear no more dreams."

Thor nodded. He would make the arrangements to let his brother drink himself to sleep just this once. He'd seen what became of warriors who relied too much on spirits to find rest…but Loki's sunken, bloodshot eyes, haggard face, and haunted figure were too much for even Thor to bear.

"Do you want…" Thor hesitated. His father wouldn't thank him for even offering. He didn't know what Loki's reaction would be, but if ever there was a time to make this offer, it was now. "Do you want me to send Mother to you?"

"No," he whispered. "Have we not hurt her enough—you, me, and Tyr? Have we not broken our mother's heart enough?"

After a moment, Thor nodded. "Perhaps we have. Fare you well in my absence, little brother." Thor had turned away and walked nearly halfway down the corridor when he heard the soft blessing following after him, a whisper of shadow in the dungeon corridor.

"Fare you well in Midgard, Brother."

Thor closed his eyes against the sting of tears and kept walking.

**.**

"This is going to hurt you much worse than it will hurt me," Víðarr informed his brother the next morning as they approached the edge of the Bifröst. Thor raised an eyebrow and his younger brother grinned. "Well, Brother, the way it works is, the more _seiðr_ you have, the easier it is to travel along those byways. You'll recall after Father sent you to Midgard this last time, it took you a few hours to finish retching, get off your knees, and go get Loki. That will probably happen this time because you have perhaps one magical bone in your entire body, whereas I—"

"Shut up," Thor said with a smile, jabbing his brother with an elbow. "I'll not be sick this time."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Thor," Víðarr said loftily. "Now, brace yourself."

Thor focused on the shattered Bifröst beneath his feet—the crystal shards vivid with color, lighting up when one touched them, singing with innate power. He'd always found the Rainbow Bridge to be one of the most beautiful things in Asgard, though he'd never told anyone that. Warriors didn't find beauty in such things. And he'd seen how Loki was mocked by their friends, and teased, for loving beautiful things.

He frowned. His brother had been teased often, now that he thought about it. Why hadn't the prince ever paid any attention before? Perhaps because it took such a great deal to irritate his foster brother. He simply hadn't given it any thought. Yet now Loki was claiming their friends had always hated him. Why did he think that? Thor wasn't sure he could or should ask Loki; his brother was terribly fragile right now from lack of sleep and the strain of telling the tale of how he'd met, loved, and lost Thea. And if Thor did ask, what was to stop Loki from lashing out in fresh anger about Thor never listening, never seeing?

There were still so many unanswered questions. What was Loki's connection to Coulson? Why did he maintain that Coulson and Fury had both betrayed him? Why had Loki tried to kill Thor during the crown prince's exile by using the Destroyer to break his neck? And what had stopped Loki from escaping with Thea when he'd had the chance?

But then claws of swirling, kaleidoscopic colors—a violet, vibrant storm of _seiðr_—grabbed him, yanking him into the vortex between Realms and scattering his thoughts like ash on the whirlwind. Vicious wind snapped around his head, slapped his face and every inch of exposed skin. Bitter cold alternated so rapidly with blistering heat that it melted into one searing, mind-jarring sensation. He couldn't breathe, no air, only emptiness and howling wind and explosions of color and magic, like the Bifröst but a thousand times worse.

Then Thor hit the ground with a bone-jarring _thud_ that left his ears ringing. He took a step as spots danced across his vision. His legs wobbled, buckled, and he sank to his knees. Next to him, Víðarr coughed and spat. Thor smelled blood and wondered vaguely if his brother had bitten his tongue. Then Thor was too busy heaving up the contents of his stomach to wonder anything.

After his belly had finally stopped trying to crawl out of his mouth, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked up to meet Víðarr's expression of sympathetic amusement.

"I warned you. Here." He offered Thor a waterskin.

"Shut up," Thor muttered, but took the water, squeezing the leather sack to squirt water past his lips so he could rinse his mouth thoroughly. When he got to his feet, his legs still trembled, but they would hold him well enough. A thought flitted through his mind, only to snag there—had Loki felt this sick, this disoriented, after coming through the Chitauri's tesseract-formed portal?

When Thor offered it back, Víðarr took the waterskin and enjoyed his own drink. Then the brothers looked around. Thor frowned. He didn't remember any places on Midgard that he'd been to that had so many trees. Dusted with snow as they were, still…if he'd been here before, he would have recognized it. Where had Víðarr's magic taken them?

"I know this place," Víðarr murmured. "It is a stretch of cultivated wilderness in the city of New York, the place where your Avengers battled our brother last year. This is the place where I met the mortal warrior, Fury."

"Does this place have a name?"

Víðarr nodded. "They call it 'Central Park.' Is not the stronghold of your friend, the Man of Iron, near here?"

Thor frowned and looked toward the sky to get his bearings. The sun was just beginning to set. Having found west, the crown prince drew up a mental map of the city he'd seen during the battle the year before. Pointing northward, he said, "We must journey that way."

"Walking or flying?"

"Walking," Thor replied. "We do not wish to frighten anyone."

Despite their best intentions, the pair of Asgardian warriors received countless odd or even worried looks as they strode down the hard, pale stone pathways the Midgardians referred to as "sidewalks." It was when the warriors attempted to cross the black, painted stone roads that they ran into trouble. Careful of the horseless chariots which blared strident cries of challenge, Thor and Víðarr managed to make it across one road, but they were followed by shouting and wild gestures from the drivers of the chariots.

Víðarr raised his eyebrow at one such chariot, a bright yellow with a checkered stripe running down its side and a word he didn't recognize painted on it. The driver was yelling strange words in what he recognized to be heavily accented English and waving his fist, his middle finger extended.

The younger prince nudged his brother. "Does that mean something?"

"It is an insult, but that is all I know," Thor muttered. "Ignore them. We cannot afford to quarrel with anyone here. I wish to get to the Man of Iron without Fury learning of our arrival, if that is at all possible."

"You shouldn't do that," a cheerful little voice said from somewhere near the ground. Thor and Víðarr frowned, then looked down to see a little girl with bright red hair and blue eyes smiling at them. Her hands had been stuffed in the pockets of her fluffy yellow coat; she hardly seemed to notice the snow on the sidewalk. A pair of spectacles with black lenses, obviously too big for her, perched atop her hair. A cold taloned hand raked across Thor's heart when he thought of Loki's daughter, who would never live to see the same age as this mortal girl.

Thor knelt to put himself on level with the Midgardian child. "Good evening, young mistress," he said, smiling. "You must forgive my brother and I. We have only been to this place once before. We do not know all the rules. What is it we should not do?"

"You shouldn't cross the street until the little white man pops up on the sign," she said. Pointing with one mitten, she indicated a small, orange and black box on one of the metal poles with lights attached. A red hand, made of light, had appeared on the black surface. "See? That means 'don't walk.' You could get hit by a car if you walk when it says that. You have to wait for that. See?" The red hand blinked a few times before disappearing. In its place was a man-shaped figure of white light. Thor's eyes widened. "That means you can walk and no cars will hit you. And you always have to use the crosswalk right there."

Víðarr whistled in admiration. "That is astonishing magic for Midgardians. Very clever."

The little girl laughed. "That's not magic, silly. That's a traffic light. It works with electricity. We learned about it in school." She studied the two men for a moment before holding out her hand. "I'm Rachel. What's your names?"

"I am called Thor," he told her.

"Thor from the Avengers? The guys who fought the aliens? Wow! Oh, my gosh! You're Thor!" The little girl bounced and looked around. "Aw, man. I don't have my autograph book. Shoot. Nobody'll believe me if I say I met you. This is _so_ cool!"

Somewhat flattered by the child's obvious delight, Thor took her hand and dropped a kiss to the air just above her knuckles. She giggled. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. And this is my brother, Víðarr." The younger prince bowed.

"Víðarr? Is your last name Odinson?" Rachel asked.

Both men frowned. "It is," Víðarr murmured. "Have we met, Lady Rachel?"

She shook her head. "Nuh-uh, but you met my daddy. Him and Uncle Logan told me _all_ about you."

At the mention of the name "Logan," Víðarr's bafflement disappeared. "Ah! Rachel, daughter of Scott. Yes, I know your father. He is a good man."

The little girl shrugged. "I like him."

"Rachel!" The trio turned toward the call to see two people—a dark-skinned young man perhaps in his late twenties, and a girl whose features reminded the Asgardians of Hogun's Eastern look and who might have been eighteen—waving to the girl from the entrance of a store. "What did we tell you about talking to strangers? What are you doing?"

"Uh-oh. That's Mr. Munroe and Jubilee. I think I'm in trouble." When the pair drew abreast of the Asgardians and the mortal child, the Eastern-looking girl took Rachel's hand. Thor noticed she wore shiny black gloves that seemed to be made out of the Midgardian substance known as rubber. "Hi, Jubilee. Don't be mad."

"We apologize," Thor said quickly. He didn't want the child to get into trouble. "Young Mistress Rachel was explaining the rules of your…traffic lights, is that right?" Rachel nodded, grinning and twisting back and forth as if she couldn't bear to hold still. "We meant no offense. I am Thor Odinson and this is my brother, Víðarr. Perhaps you could give my brother and me directions. We are looking for the place known as Stark Tower."

The dark-skinned man, Mr. Munroe, nodded. "Of course," he said in a rich, accented voice. "You will want to go down Fifth Avenue, and then take a right…" After the mortal had given the proper directions, he said, "I hope you find your way."

Thor replied, "You have our thanks. May I ask your names?"

Looking somewhat uncomfortable, the girl with the gloves muttered, "Jubilation Lee. Nice outfits."

"We just call her Jubilee," Rachel added, but the older girl shushed her.

Mr. Munroe held out his hand and Thor shook it in the way of mortals. "I am Mij'nari Munroe. Thank you for being kind to Rachel. She is very friendly, and that often gets her into trouble."

"Mij'nari?" Thor said abruptly. The mortal man's eyes widened briefly before narrowing, and he inclined his head. "From Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters?"

"How do you know this?"

"Mr. Víðarr was the guy who came to the school last month," Rachel said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Daddy and Uncle Logan and the professor talked to him. He's a good guy. They're nice. Don't worry, they won't do anything to us. They want to talk to Mr. Stark."

Thor raised an eyebrow. "You know the one called Anthony Stark?"

Rachel shook her head so that her dark-tinted glasses tumbled from the top of her head. Mij'nari caught them and set them back in place. "I see him on TV a lot. And he pays for our pizza parties at school sometimes. I love pizza. It's so good for you. Mommy and Daddy don't think so, but we know, huh, Jubilee? Pizza's da bomb."

Jubilee rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "Rach, nobody says that anymore. That happened before you were born. You can't say that."

"Can, too. Da bomb. See? I said it."

Ignoring the young woman and the girl, Thor focused on Mij'nari. Never looking away from the jet eyes that seemed to see a great deal more than most Midgardians, the crown prince asked softly, "Did you attend school with a woman named Althea Valerian?"

"I did," Mij'nari replied just as softly. "Why do you ask this?"

"Do you know where I might be able to find her mother?" If Thea's mother and Coulson had been all that Loki claimed, perhaps she would have some of the answers Thor sought so desperately.

Mij'nari took a step back and slid his hands into the pockets of his black coat. Thor could almost see the wall of reserve building between them. "I'm sorry, I do not have that information. Thea and I were friends in our childhood, many years ago. I wouldn't know how to contact her now, or her family. I have not heard from her in years. Now, if you will excuse us, we must be going. Come along, Rachel."

"Bye!" The girl said, waving cheerfully over her shoulder as the trio of mortals walked away, down the sidewalk. Thor and Víðarr waved back at her as she called, "Don't forget to look both ways before you cross the street! Watch out for cars!"

"See, Brother?" Víðarr murmured, glancing at Thor from the corner of his eye. "Even the child knows you need to fear the horseless chariots."

"Shut up."

They turned to go their own way when the crown prince suddenly paused, noticing something over his shoulder. He frowned and watched as Mij'nari pulled a small device from his pocket and held it to his ear. Thor recognized the Midgardian thing as what they called a "cellular phone," a device which could be used to communicate privately over long distances almost instantaneously. Looking around nervously, the mortal man spoke rapidly into the phone, nodded a few times, then put the phone back in his pocket. Lifting his arm, he flagged down one of the yellow cars that said "Taxi" on it. Ushering in Rachel and Jubilee, Mij'nari followed quickly after, and the taxi drove off.

"He lied to us," Víðarr said. Thor raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. Víðarr shrugged. "I sensed it when he said he didn't have information about Althea's mother. It's a small spell. Loki…Loki taught it to me centuries ago. Mij'nari was lying to us."

Thor nodded. "I suspected as much, but couldn't be sure. Did you get the impression he was protecting someone?"

As they began walking, Víðarr nodded. "Yes, I did. The question is, who?"

"I don't know…but if the Man of Iron agrees to help us, we may soon find out."

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_**Author's Note**__: secrets and lies. It's always secrets and lies! The question is, what lies, and what secrets? Hmmm? Hope you guys had fun with this chapter. Let me know what you think, okay?_


	19. The Price of a Drop of Blood

_**Author's Note**__: so everybody! Who's excited about this next chapter? We get to see Tony! Getting him down was fairly difficult (I have access to Thor, Captain America, and The Avengers, but I don't have a copy of either Iron Man film; I had to rewatch Iron Man 2_—_my least favorite Avengers film—to get a better grasp of him) so hopefully I did okay. I've never actually written Tony before. I've referenced him in my other Loki fic_—_A Curse as Dark as Night, and Cold_—_but never actually written him. So I hope you guys like this chapter. And we get to see Rhodie, too! Yay! I kinda like Rhodie. Not as much as Tony, but I like him._

_For the second scene in this fic, and the interaction here, I talked to a few of my guy friends about certain things and got some very helpful insight. Guys really do think differently than girls. It's so weird. They just react to things differently and interpret things different. Bizarre, man. So my male friends were a big help on this chapter, as was my beta, who is a guy expert (she has a brother and they actually discuss the differences in male and female psychology a LOT). Just throwing that out there._

_**Soundtrack**__: For the second scene, music really helped me. Music always helps. I almost always write to music. Specifically with this scene, I used the following: "Believe in Angels" from_ The Crow Soundtrack; "_Home at Last" from_ The Labyrinth Soundtrack; "_I Built a Home" from_ Snow White & the Huntsman; "_Catherine Dies" from_ Wuthering Heights (1992); "_Davy Jones' Lullaby (Music Box Version)" from_ Pirates of the Caribbean; "_Slow Movement" from_ Romeo+Juliet; _the "Young and Beautiful" Lana del Ray cover by Vitamin Strings Quartet; "Arwen's Vigil" by the Piano Guys; and 'Prituri Se Planinata" by Stellamara, in no particular order (I had them on Shuffle/Repeat for hours)._

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**Chapter Eighteen**

**The Price of a Drop of Blood**

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"You can't keep doing this," Rhodie said, glaring at Tony over his desk. "Come on, man. SHIELD wants you to work for them. It's good money, it's a great opportunity. I say go for it."

Tony Stark leaned back in his office chair and propped his feet on his bare desk, stroking his goatee to add to the effect of not caring. Rhodie eyed his feet.

"Tony…why are you wearing bunny slippers?"

"Forgot to change after my pajama party last night," Tony said, twitching his toes. The bunny ears flopped back and forth. Yanking open a drawer, he snagged an unused stylus from the jumbled contents and started flipping it around with one hand, twisting and whipping it between his long fingers. Totally deadpan, he added, "Aren't they adorable? Pepper let me borrow them. They don't match my suit but I've always been a trendsetter. Besides, the black and white needed a little something."

"Now you're just making crap up to screw with me."

"Probably. As for money, I am one of the richest men in the world. I think I'll live without SHIELD's weapons contract. And if I don't, then the entire world will go into mourning at my death and there will be no more war because no one will have the heart for it. Either way, it's a win-win."

Rhodie added a few ounces of "military-style angry" to his glare. Tony raised his eyebrow. He didn't march to anybody's fife, including Rhodie's. He loved the guy like a brother, but wasn't it a brother's job to irritate his siblings? Tony knew Rhodie wouldn't appreciate a lecture on how the playboy billionaire was simply fulfilling the circle of life in that regard, so he didn't add any extra ouch-sauce to the condescending brow-lift.

"Can we be serious about this for five minutes?" Rhodie demanded. Clearly, Tony thought, he should've added some ouch-sauce, since his old friend was still harping about the wonders of the government agency he detested most. "Why do you always have to laugh when I mention SHIELD?"

"Because they're hilariously pathetic. Or pathetically hilarious. I can't decide which. I'm on the fence."

"Or you're an anarchist."

Tony's brow quirked higher. "Rhodie, I am shocked and appalled." _Yeah,_ he added silently. _Shocked and appalled that I sound like someone's grandmother_. "Are you suggesting I'm a member of an anarchist group?"

"The way you're acting, with how nuts you are sometimes, maybe you are!"

Why was it that only Pepper noticed the twinkle he got in his eyes when he was shoveling mendacity on people? Then again, that was what made Pepper…well, Pepper. Aloud, Tony said, "Anarchists have groups?" Rhodie gave him a _duh_ look. "They assemble? Doesn't that totally defeat the purpose?"

Rhodie looked ready to throttle him at this point. "You know what I meant, Tony."

"Yeah," he replied, getting serious for a minute. It was exhausting being serious, but he could manage it when he had to. "I know what you meant. But I'm not working for SHIELD. Ever. We tried that last year and a good friend of mine ended up dead. The one thing SHIELD had going for it and they threw it away."

Way too much seriousness, Tony decided. Thinking about Coulson always brought in too much seriousness. He'd been a friend, and Tony hadn't realized it until it had been too late. Except for Obadiah, who'd practically been his dad, he'd never lost a friend before. And since then, he hadn't been able to handle too much seriousness. Which was why he kept Bruce around. That, and the guy needed a buddy who didn't care about the big, green rage-monster inside of him. There was a girl in Tony's R&D who was convinced all Bruce needed was a hug to help quell said rage-monster. Tony kept trying to get Bruce to take the girl up on it—hugs led to all sorts of interesting things from hot girls—but the guy was still too repressed. They were making progress, though.

"So I don't like SHIELD anymore," the young genius continued. "They can't have my stuff. Besides, Nick Fury looks like a pirate. I refuse to work for a pirate. I'm morally opposed. It threatens to knock my moral compass off-center."

Rhodie sighed and dropped his head back against his chair. This was the almost-defeated pose. Tony knew it well. Rhodie would give in soon. Probably in the next five minutes. "Last week," his friend muttered, "you said you wouldn't work for him because he looked like a llama."

"He was wearing a poncho like the fat guy in that Disney movie with the llamas," Tony said. Seriously, how many times did he have to explain this? "The one I saw with the kids that came by from the school. He reminded me of a llama."

"Tony—" Rhodie tried again. After all these years, he still hadn't learned that trying only led to bitter, bitter defeat. Except when he was right and Tony was wrong. Tony liked to pretend those times never happened. But this was not one of those times.

Closing his eyes and sticking a finger in his ear, he said, "You're stifling my creativity."

"_Tony_—"

"Lalalalala, not listening to Rhodie, lalalalala."

He'd actually gotten into a bit of a musical rhythm when JARVIS interrupted. "Sir—"

"Not now, Jarvis, I'm irritating Rhodie." They were interrupting his foray into musical composition. Didn't people know how difficult it was to master a whole new subject? Sometimes it took more than a day. "Lalalalala—"

"Sir, there are two men here to see you. They are most insistent."

That caught his attention. Eyeing Rhodie, Tony demanded, "Are they SHIELD?"

"No, sir. One of them is Thor."

Tony bolted upright in his chair. The glow from the miniature arc reactor in his chest pulsed once as his heart-rate kicked up. "_Thor?_" Kicking off the bunny slippers, he got to his feet and raced for the door to his private elevator. "Where is he, JARVIS?"

"In the front lobby, sir. There is another man with him who appears to be Asgardian, as well. Shall I send them up, sir?"

"Where's Pepper?"

"Wrapping up a conference meeting on the first floor, sir."

"Send her," Tony commanded, yanking off his black tie. No way was he meeting an old war buddy looking like an FBI goon. "Tell her to stall two minutes and then have Thor and this other guy meet me in my private office on the top floor." The elevator doors whooshed open and Tony hopped inside. Poking his head back out, he added, "Rhodie, you coming? There's gonna be lots of SHIELD bashing and mean words tossed around while we discuss Fury's secret predilection for wearing women's underwear. It'll be fun."

"If I stay here, can I drink your gin?"

"Just stay away from my bourbon," Tony tossed back, stepping fully into the elevator. "JARVIS, top floor. Tell Bruce we've got company. Do I have any clean t-shirts?"

"I'll ask Ms. Potts, sir."

**.**

Thor tried not to fidget as he waited for the disembodied voice of the entity known as JARVIS to contact Tony Stark and alert him to Thor's presence. This Midgardian "lobby" felt far too cramped for the Asgardian's liking. Mortals were so tiny.

And that made him think of Jane. She was so small compared to the crown prince, yet she'd fit perfectly against him when he'd pulled her to him after defeating the Destroyer. And for one so small, so seemingly delicate, she'd had the strength to haul him against her for that single fleeting kiss of farewell. Sometimes Thor could still taste that kiss.

He wanted to go see Jane, wanted to find her and tell her everything that had been happening to him since he'd left her almost two years ago. Two years…so long to be without her. But he was needed on Asgard still. Loki needed him. This mystery of Coulson and Thea and Nick Fury and the Chitauri had to be solved before Thor could even think of telling his mother and father his intentions towards Jane. Balder knew, because Thor had sought his little brother's wisdom, and no doubt Loki knew; he'd always been able to read the crown prince better than anyone. But with all that was happening in the Realm at the moment, petitioning to court a mortal would've been asking too much of his parents.

Yet he longed to see her just for a moment. To hear her voice, her laugh. She had such a bright laugh. And she was so clever. Far more clever than most of the people he'd met on Midgard, though he liked them all well enough.

His thoughts were interrupted by Víðarr's brief nudge. Jerking himself from memories of Jane, Thor focused on the tall, slender mortal approaching them. She wore the crisply-ironed gray trousers and jacket he'd seen on Midgardian "businessmen," but her bright auburn hair and friendly smile kept the colorless outfit from making her seem severe and forbidding. As soon as he saw the bright gray eyes and the hair, Thor knew exactly who this must be.

"You must be Thor," the woman said cheerfully, holding out her hand. Thor kissed her knuckles briefly, then gave her hand to his brother, who did the same. The mortal inclined her head in acknowledgement. "I'm Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark's—"

"You're his lady," Thor said, smiling. "Yes, he spoke of you when I was here last year. I have wanted to meet you for a long time."

"Tony talked about me?" Pepper cocked her head, smiling a little bemusedly.

Thor grinned. "Quite a bit after the battle. He praises you quite highly. It is an honor to meet such a redoubtable woman. This is my younger brother, Víðarr."

"Lady Pepper," Víðarr murmured, offering a short bow. "It is an honor to meet the lady of one of my brother's comrades-in-arms."

The faintest hint of a blush crept into the woman's cheeks and she said, "Well, thank you. It's nice to meet the man Tony's talked so much about. Did you two really get into a fight in the middle of the woods in Germany?"

He laughed. "A minor skirmish. We had a misunderstanding over—"

"Who had a right to whose toys," Víðarr said in a stage-whisper. Thor shot him a mock-quelling look, and his younger brother grinned. "It escalated when the Man of Iron bade my brother to put his hammer down."

"It's _my_ hammer."

Víðarr smiled at Pepper. "As I said."

"You're here to see Tony, I take it?" Pepper asked. Thor nodded. "Well, right this way, gentlemen." She gestured for them to follow as she strode to a glass door that opened to the cramped Midgardian traveling box known as an elevator. It was a tight fit for the two large men and the mortal woman, but Thor and Víðarr crowded together to give Pepper a bit more room. "JARVIS," Pepper called as the doors hissed closed.

The disembodied voice echoed from the metal mesh in the ceiling of the elevator—what were those called, again? Ah, yes. Thor remembered now. Speakers—and Thor recognized the voice of the JARVIS creature.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"To the top floor, please."

"Right away, Ms. Potts."

With a sudden lurch, the elevator shot skyward. As the elevator moved toward the top floor, music issued from the speakers. A girl, Thor thought. Mortal, obviously, and young, perhaps a woman just leaving maidenhood behind. At first the words made no sense, but with a jolt of shock, Thor realized he recognized them.

_"I like writing songs about _

_Douche-bags who cheat on me, _

_But I'm not gonna say that _

_In my monologue…"_

"This song," Thor said. Pepper glanced at him, one brow raised. "This is…Taylor Swift, is it not?"

"You're a fan of country?" She asked, bemused.

"Country?" Víðarr echoed. "I do not understand. This song is…country?"

"Yeah, that's the genre."

"How did you get this music?" Thor asked.

"You know, I'm not sure," Pepper replied. "JARVIS, I thought the music for Tony's private elevator came from his iTunes library on his main computer and I'm pretty sure this isn't on there."

There was a soft hum from the speakers. Thor wondered if JARVIS were thinking. Did such things as "computers" need to think? Tony had explained them as machines with thoughts that raced quicker than lightning. Yet it was a few seconds before JARVIS said, "My memory banks show Mr. Stark showing a few visiting students from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters how to play with some of the computer systems. I registered a young lady named Cleo asked him to put this song into the playlist for the elevator while she was here."

Thor frowned. "Cleo Valerian?"

JARVIS hummed for a second before replying, "Yes, sir. That was the young lady's name."

Pepper's brows rose higher. "Friend of yours?"

Golden brows furrowed as Thor exchanged a glance with Víðarr. "A kinswoman of ours…perhaps," he murmured. Could it be Thea's youngest sister? Loki hadn't spoken much about Thea's family after the basics of names and ascendance by age, and that her two eldest brothers had superhuman powers. Could it be her?

The doors whooshed open a moment later to reveal two men lounging in the vast receiving room. One man, with a few threads of silver in his dark hair and wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, lifted a hand in greeting. Thor grinned and strode toward him, crying, "Banner! My old comrade!" Grabbing the mortal scholar, Thor crushed him in a bruising hug. "It is _good_ to see you! You have stayed with the son of Howard all this time?"

"Yeah," Bruce said, adjusting the glasses Thor's hug had knocked askew. He smiled at the tall Asgardian. "Doing some research together. How you doing, big guy?"

"I am well enough," Thor replied. "But it is good to see you! You are doing well? You have managed to control your beast?" Bruce nodded. "I knew that you could! Well done! I am glad for you."

"I feel like a wallflower," another voice interrupted. Still grinning, Thor turned to see Tony perched on the back of a long, white leather couch, feigning hurt. "It's like I'm not even here. I'm invisible. Point Break's not even looking at me. Pepper, what is this? Something strange is happening."

"It's called being ignored," she replied with a sweet smile. "It's good to experience how the little people live now and then."

Thor saw the corner of Tony's mouth twitch before he managed to suppress it. "But I'm not a little person. I'm me. Tony Stark. The center of this universe. The big kahuna. Master of all I survey. What's going on here with the ignoring? What is this?"

"This is you having a diva moment," Pepper said, unruffled.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Then where are my flowers? I could've sworn I asked for freesias. Where are my freesias?"

"They're with your crown on the parade float," Bruce said, smiling benignly. Tony raised one eyebrow and looked at Thor, who was laughing now, and then to Bruce, and finally to Pepper.

"Tag-teamed. I get it. Fine. After this meeting I'm going to drown myself in a bucket. See how you all feel then, when the glory of my genius is gone from this world forever, plunging it into eternal darkness. I'm holding back the darkness, Pepper."

"And you do a wonderful job."

"You're patronizing me."

"Only sometimes," she said, smiling. Thor could see, as plain as a full moon in a cloudless night sky, the love in Pepper's face as she looked at the mortal warrior who held her heart. It was the same look Jane had given him once. Had Thea ever given Loki such a look? "I'll let you boys get down to business," Pepper added. With a wave, she stepped back into the elevator, which took her out of sight.

Tony hopped off the couch and went to Thor. The two Avengers clasped hands. "Hey, man. What's going on? What are you doing here? I thought your Rainbowland Bridge—"

"Rainbow Bridge," Bruce corrected.

"Whatever. I thought it was busted. How did you get here? And who's this guy?" Tony gestured to Víðarr, and Thor introduced his younger brother. "Oh. Is he adopted, too?"

"No. I am sorry, my friends, I am not here for your company, though I am grateful you were willing to receive us. I must speak to you regarding our fallen friend, Coulson."

The warmth in Tony's eyes immediately dimmed, shuttered by grief and sullen anger. Thor could understand; he felt the same way about their friend's death. Tony turned away and walked to the low metal table beside the couch. A small half-full of amber liquid sat there; the prince recognized it as the mortal drink known as "scotch." The Midgardian snatched it up and took a long sip. "What about him?"

Thor had thought long and hard about how to put this before his old friends. They hadn't seen what Loki had become since his imprisonment, and they had no reason to think kindly of his little brother. He would have to be careful. So, speaking with utmost caution, Thor murmured, "I believe we weren't told everything about his death."

Bruce plucked his glasses off his face; the crown prince recognized that as the sign that he'd caught the mortal scholar's full attention. "What do you mean? Loki killed him."

Víðarr opened his mouth as if to refute the claim, but Thor raised a hand to silence him. After a moment, the younger prince nodded.

"There is an oath in Asgard," Thor said, carefully avoiding Bruce and Tony's gazes. "An oath that cannot be broken, upon pain of death. When an Asgardian swears by the Norns and their Tapestry, whatever is sworn _must_ be the truth. To forswear such a vow will result in death by _seiðr_. It is inescapable and immediate."

Bruce and Tony exchanged glances, then took seats on the couch. When Tony leaned back, the glow of the device in his chest showed through the thin black cotton of his t-shirt. Gesturing with the glass of scotch, he said, "Go on."

"Loki swore a vow by the Norns to me. If he'd been lying, he would be dead now. The innate magic of the vow would have killed him instantly. It didn't."

"Which means he was telling the truth," Bruce hazarded. Thor nodded. "About Coulson?"

"Yes. He swore to me that his strike didn't kill our friend."

Tony lunged to his feet and paced around the couch. He took a swig from the glass, stared at it, then snapped his gaze back to Thor. "You're one-hundred-percent sure that Loki didn't kill him? That this is legit? You're _sure?_"

He nodded. "I am sure. Loki _could not_ lie in this. His vow, spoken in falsehood, would have killed him then and there. The punishment for swearing falsely by the Mistresses of Fate is brutal and swift. He was telling the truth. He does _not_ claim that our friend still lives, but it was not Loki's strike that killed him…which makes me wonder about SHIELD, and if they lied to us."

Tony swallowed hard, then turned sharply and hurled his drink against the wall. It shattered in an explosion of crystalline glass and amber liquid. The Man of Iron raked a hand through his hair before stomping back to the couch.

"You think they lied?"

Thor shook his head. "I fear they may have. That is not the same thing."

"They probably did," Bruce muttered. Tony made a sharp sound of derision.

"I am here," Thor added, "to find out information about Coulson, about the circumstances of his death, and…and about his daughter."

"Daughter?" Tony echoed. "He had a daughter?"

"The daughter of the woman he was courting," Thor corrected himself. "You remember he mentioned her? The musician?"

"The cellist in Portland. Yeah. Why do you need information about that woman's daughter? Was Coulson her father?"

The Asgardian sighed, frowned, and stroked his beard. How to say this? How to make it matter to them enough to get their help? "He was _like_ a father to her, for nearly twenty years. She is dead. Her death is…important. It connects with the events of last October, when the Chitauri invaded this city. She may have been part of the cause, part of the reason the enemy could get to this Realm in the first place. I have reason to believe that Coulson knew something about the Chitauri that he hadn't told us. He may have told Fury—I'm fairly certain he did—but what it might be, I know not."

"Important, how?" Bruce asked, creases forming between his brows. "You said this girl's death was important, connected to the invasion. How?"

He took a deep breath. "Loki claims he was blackmailed into invading your Realm."

"Oh, come _on_," Tony snapped. "What_ever_. You don't really believe that, do you, man? I mean, I know the guy's your brother, but seriously—"

"Tony, shut up," Bruce said softly. The other mortal stared at him incredulously. "Thor wouldn't have come all the way out here from Asgard if he didn't have a good reason. We need to shut up and listen. Because we all know Loki was nuts, but he was smart. So if Thor thought he'd been blackmailed, there would have to be a really good reason for him to believe that. He's not being controlled; look at his eyes. So spill it. What's going on that brought you all the way to Earth, big guy?"

Víðarr and Thor exchanged glances. How much could he say? Loki hadn't forbidden him to tell the Midgardians anything, but to casually spill his foster brother's secrets as if they were worthless…the prince couldn't do that, either. So he focused on a spot of sunlight dappling the carpet and took a moment to marshal his thoughts before speaking.

"Loki and I have been…talking for many months now. Nearly a year. And he has told me many things that I believe to be true. I do not ask you to believe. That isn't why I am here. I'm here for proof of my brother's words. If he speaks the truth, it changes many things about what happened last year. If he lies…then he is a better liar than I believed anyone capable. Either way, I need to know the truth.

"My brother claims that the Chitauri held him prisoner for more than a year in their dungeons. While there, he met a mortal woman named Althea. They fell in love, married according to Asgardian custom…and had a child. A daughter named Sophie. When Althea learned she was with child, the Chitauri also learned of it, and tortured her in front of Loki, threatening to kill her and her unborn child if he did not submit to their wishes."

Recitation over, he looked up from the spot on the carpet he'd been well on his way to memorizing, and met the shocked gazes of his comrades. Bruce played with his spectacles for a time in heavy silence. Tony, face pale and tense, got up to get another drink. He offered one to Thor, who declined. Víðarr accepted. Tony took his time walking back to the couch.

"You believe him," the Man of Iron murmured after he'd taken his seat again and given the younger prince his drink. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't. So why are you here, exactly?"

"I need proof, one way or the other. My brother has spoken to SHIELD, as well as a powerful Midgardian known as Charles Xavier. He had the impression they were hiding something from us, though for what reason, we couldn't discern."

Tony scoffed and shook his head. "I don't know about the professor—I've met him, he's pretty decent; his students had a field trip out here just last week, nice kids—but SHIELD? Like I've said many, many times, even their secrets have secrets. They might hide crap from you just so they can do a gloaty little tap-dance about it later in their 'Who's the Best Spy' meetings. So you want me to hack into SHIELD's computers and get whatever there is to get about Coulson and this woman?"

Thor nodded. "You are the only ones in this Realm I can trust, my friends. And I can give you what information I have: her full name was Althea Sigyn Valerian, her mother's name is also Sophie, and Coulson had been courting Sophie Valerian for at least fifteen years before Thea disappeared on a camping trip with her family."

"There is one other thing," Víðarr said. "Both Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters and the SHIELD base in this city are being shielded by a strange form of _seiðr_. It isn't Midgardian, or Asgardian, or Frost Giant, though it feels similar to all of them in a way. It is somewhat like Loki's power, but it _isn't_ his power. It feels very uncontrolled, as if whoever is putting these shields around these places knows what they're doing, but isn't doing it very well. It is…clumsy. Like a child drawing with color-sticks compared to what should be a sketch done by a master artist. That power prevents Heimdall, the Gatekeeper of Asgard, from seeing into these places. I had difficulty staying at the school. The entire time, the power of the shield kept trying to shove me out. When this was mentioned both to Xavier and Fury, they seemed surprised at first, but then seemed to come to some sort of understanding."

Bruce smiled ruefully. "Didn't feel like sharing that understanding with you? Didn't think so. Huh. Not Loki's power, not your kind of thing or ours. We'll look into it. Right, Tony?"

"You kidding? How am I supposed to sleep, knowing SHIELD has secrets I don't know about yet? JARVIS! Have you been listening to this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Run the requisite scans and searches. Fury didn't get rid of all of our bugs from the last meeting, did he?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Awesome. Hop to it. So," beaming at the men assembled, "since you're here—schwarma, anybody?"

**.**

They only stayed long enough for schwarma; Thor wasn't comfortable leaving Loki for too long. It felt dangerous to leave him when they'd made so much progress, especially with Tyr lurking who knew where, possibly waiting to pounce. If Tyr started harassing Loki again, the crown prince didn't know what sort of damage might be done. His brother was…fragile now. He wasn't the strong, clever, sometimes vicious man Thor remembered, or even the confident and cruel madman who'd attacked Midgard the previous year. The prince told his old comrades that Heimdall would be watching, and that when Tony wanted him, Thor would return.

Bidding the Man of Iron and Banner farewell, and dropping a kiss to the back of Lady Pepper's hand, Thor and Víðarr entered one of the _seiðr_ pathways between Realms and made their way back to Asgard.

Thor was sick that time, as well.

At his mother's insistence, Thor slept off the effects of _seiðr_ travel before he went to see his brother late that night. Even when he rose after a few hours' sleep, he still looked pale and haggard. Perhaps that would impress Loki. If his foster brother thought Thor suffered in order to help him, mayhap the green-eyed prince would open up more. There was still much he needed to explain.

Stifling a yawn, Thor made his way to the dungeons. The Asgardian night was quiet, so long after midnight. Crickets chirped and a nightingale sang from far off. The snap and crackle of torches in their sconces on the wall, and the song of the crickets, reminded him too strongly of that night on the roof of the research lab with Jane. After she'd fallen asleep in her chair, Thor had stayed up late into the night, simply watching the stars and remembering his family. His father, whom he'd thought gone forever; his mother, so strong and wise and beautiful; the twins, who looked up to their older brothers; Tyr and Víðarr, whom Thor hadn't even been able to see before his exile; and Loki.

It was so strange, the prince thought now as he approached the dungeon entrance, how he and Loki had once been so very close. Thor's first word had been "Loh-ee," and Loki's had been "Tor"—different from all their other brothers, whose first word had been the expected "Mumma." What had changed? Why had they grown apart?

"Thor," a soft voice hailed him from the shadows, and he stopped. Sif emerged from the hollow of darkness near the door and stopped, as if expecting him to rebuff her. Instead, he smiled. A hesitant smile from his friend answered him. "You are going to see Loki?"

He nodded. "I wish to tell him what progress was made in Midgard today."

"May I…may I come with you?"

Brow furrowing, he asked, "Why?"

"I want to talk to him, if I may. I have no intention of antagonizing him. I…I want to see him. He was my friend too, once. If what you say is true…there is much that needs to be considered. I would like to speak to him."

Thor hesitated. Sif wouldn't lie to him; that wasn't the source of his uncertainty. Loki had said that Sif had slapped him once, and called him _ärgr_. If she'd been a man, it would have been well within Loki's rights to challenge her to _hölmgang_, and during such combat, he would have been justified in killing her. Sif might want to see Loki, but that didn't mean that _Loki_ wanted to see _her_.

"If he asks that I leave, I will," Sif said, intuiting the reason for the prince's unease. "I have no intention of hurting him, if that is what worries you. I merely wish to talk to him."

After another moment's hesitation, Thor nodded. "If he asks you to leave—"

"Then I shall."

The walk down the dungeon corridor was silent, strained. Thor wasn't at all certain this was a wise decision, but at least Sif would leave if Loki grew agitated—unlike Odin, whose very presence enraged the fostered prince. He wondered if the breach between his brother and father would ever mend.

Loki was awake and pacing almost frantically when they arrived, which sent a pang of worry through the prince. He'd done as his little brother had requested and sent enough ale that Loki should have still been quiescent, though not asleep. And judging by the empty kegs that had been smashed to splinters, the green-eyed prince had drunk it all. So how was he awake? Why? And what had upset him now? For Loki strode swiftly and savagely across the length of his cell, chewing on the knuckle of his crooked index finger until blood flowed, stark red against his white skin. Crimson smeared his lips. Deep lines snarled across his forehead and between the thin black brows. His eyes burned electric blue.

"No," he growled under his breath. "No. Stop it. Stop it! Leave me alone. Stop it." Making a circuit of the room, he suddenly turned and slammed his foot into the chair he usually sat in, sending it crashing into the wall. It hit with a resounding crash and then fell to the floor with a clatter. Loki shoved his fingers through his hair, uncaring of the blood on his hands. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! I won't listen to this! I didn't…I couldn't…no!"

"Who is he talking to?" Sif whispered, hanging back in the shadows to keep Loki from seeing her. "What is…wrong with him?"

A terrible weight seemed to have settled over Thor's shoulders as he watched his little brother pacing and muttering and bleeding. Was that the glitter of a tear at the corner of Loki's eye? Thor drew a breath into lungs gone suddenly, painfully tight. "He hears a child crying…always. In sleep or waking. And often he hears Thea screaming."

Wide-eyed, Sif whispered, "What? Why?"

"The Chitauri tortured her in front of him," Thor replied. Sif's breath caught. "To see the person you love treated so…it would break any man."

"Why did the Chitauri do this? He was already their lieutenant, the leader of their invading force. Why do such a thing to someone Loki obviously cared for?"

Thor sighed. "He wasn't their lieutenant then. That was how they brought him over to their side." Sif turned to watch Loki, eyes wide and expression troubled. Thor sighed again. "Sif, I think you should go. As upset as he is, I don't think now is the best time for you to speak to him."

She nodded. "Will you…tell him I wish to talk, however? That I would like to discuss how things stand between us."

"If possible, I will."

Sif canted her head in acknowledgement and quickly stole back down the corridor, far away from the madness and darkness thickening in the dungeons.

Behind her, Thor watched his brother suddenly jerk to a halt and fall to his knees. Slender, pale hands smeared with blood shook as Loki lifted them up to stare at them. He'd been chewing his nails again, the crown prince noticed with a pang. The nail-beds had been savaged raw and still seeped crimson. Bleeding teeth-marks marred Loki's knuckles. Many of the guards had said they'd noticed the disguised Frost Giant often gnawing his knuckles in his sleep. Because of the nightmares of Thea?

Loki covered his face with shaking hands and bowed his head. Tremors rippled through the too-thin body. Thor realized just how wasted his brother had become. Loki had always been slender, but now…was he eating? How had Thor not thought to ask? His little brother's wrists seemed all white bones and paper-thin flesh, except where the strange, black markings poked out from beneath his sleeve. Loki still hadn't explained those marks, either.

"Damn you, Thor," Loki whispered. "Damn you, Father. This is your fault, it's all your fault, I…no. No, it's my fault. I should have protected them. I should have…no! No, I did what I had to do. Coulson should have done what was needed! He betrayed them! Why couldn't he complete his mission? Why didn't he save them? Why? It's not my fault, Thea. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I loved you. I _loved_ you, I didn't want them to hurt you. I never wanted you to be harmed, I loved you, darling, please…_please_. You must believe me. I would follow you, I _would_, but I can't. They won't let me. I haven't the strength or the _seiðr_ necessary to steal a blade and..."

All at once Loki lifted his head. His eyes, fluctuating between that bizarre cobalt and the familiar emerald, fixed on the glass inkwell on the table. The sapphire began to consume the natural color of his eyes. Slowly he rose to his feet. His fingers trembled before they convulsed into bloody fists at his side. His expression as he stared at the inkwell was such a mixture of hope and despair that it clawed at Thor's heart. What was his brother seeing that Thor wasn't?

Loki took a single step forward. "Yes. Yes, I see. Of course. I've been such a fool. The way was always here. I could have…Forgive me, Thea. I didn't realize or I would have…I'm sorry. But don't worry. You will have your revenge for our daughter. Our sweet, little Sophie. Don't worry, my love."

With two lightning-swift paces, Loki strode to the table, hefted the glass inkwell, and hurled it against the wall. Thor was reminded of Tony with his scotch. The glass vessel shattered when it collided with the wall, spattering the white stone with inky darkness. The shards of glass tinkled to the floor. Loki walked toward the pool of ink and glass, steps dragging as his legs shook. He staggered once, twice. Thor remembered he had staggered just the same way on the day he'd learned of Thea's death.

Loki knelt and picked up a shard of glass perhaps three inches long. Thor's blood chilled with a breath of frost and dread. The thin sliver of broken glass bit into Loki's fingertips. Burgundy dripped, _pit-pat-pit-pat_, on the floor to mix with the black pool at the prince's feet. Eyes wide, held immobile by the strangling disbelief flooding his limbs, Thor watched as Loki touched the very point of the glass to the vulnerable underside of his pale, thin wrist. A drop of blood welled up and trickled over the white skin. Loki pressed a little harder, and more blood flowed.

"No! Loki!" Thor lurched forward, stumbling in his haste, and his hands collided with the window of enchanted glass. "No! Brother, you must not! You cannot!"

"Go, Thor," he whispered. "You needn't bear witness to this."

"_No!_" The Asgardian hammered his fist against the window and cried, "Loki, this isn't the way! What about your vengeance?"

Loki shook his head. "It matters not. There is no vengeance that can bring them back. I hear them constantly, Brother. It never stops. I want it to stop. I want to be able to sleep without hearing my daughter weeping for me and her mother, without hearing my wife screaming in agony. I just want to rest. Nothing helps. This might."

Thor swallowed hard, then bellowed, "Guards! Open the prince's prison!"

"But, Your Highness—"

"_Do it!_"

Thor didn't waste a second after the guards deactivated the _seiðr_ holding Loki imprisoned. He rushed into the cell, slamming the door and activating the magic again himself. If—a _colossal_ if—Loki was attempting to escape, he wouldn't manage it, but Thor didn't think this was such an attempt.

He lunged for Loki and knocked the glass shard out of his brother's hand. The tip cut a small line of crimson across the thin wrist, and fresh blood flowed freely. Kicking once, sharply, at the remaining shards on the floor to knock them out of his brother's reach, Thor grabbed his younger brother by the too-thin wrists and yanked him, staggering, to his feet. Loki stared at the crown prince as if he thought his foster brother were a mirage. Thor shook him.

"You can't _do_ this!" He yelled, shaking Loki again. "You cannot end your life and leave me here alone! You're my brother, how could you turn your back on me like this?"

Loki shook his head as if dazed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Shut up!" Thor cried, gripping him by the back of the neck, as he had the night he'd come to Midgard to fetch his brother home. "What did you think? That I would just stand back and let you take your own life? As if I wouldn't _care_? As if it wouldn't _shatter_ me? What are you thinking? What about Mother and Father? What about our brothers? What about Sif? She was here tonight; she wanted to see you, to talk to you. Would you turn your back on us all? Leave us without so much as a goodbye?"

"You don't und—"

"You're my brother, damn you!" Thor blinked hard, realizing his vision had blurred. Dampness spilled down his cheeks. His voice caught when he cried, "You're my _twin_. I don't care if you were fostered, I don't care if you're a Frost Giant, I don't care if Mother found you in a box of freshly-hatched snakes with goat horns and three heads. You're my twin brother, my shadow, my friend. Why would you do this?"

"It's justice," Loki rasped. "It was my fault that Thea—"

"It is _not_ justice," Thor snapped. "And I won't let you do it! No one wants you dead, Loki. No one who matters. Thea wouldn't want this."

"How do you know?" Loki whispered brokenly. His brilliant blue gaze roved over Thor's face as if searching for something vital. "How do you know that, wherever she is, she doesn't want me to suffer for what the Chitauri did to our child?"

"Because she _loved_ you," Thor said. Loki's eyes slid closed and he shuddered. "You want to die, when you have so many reasons to live? You will _destroy_ our Mother if you do this. You will break our Father. And you will wound me beyond enduring. We have always been brothers, and we always will be, no matter what happens between us. Enemies or rivals or friends, whatever, we are still brothers. How could you _ever_ doubt that? Don't do this, Loki."

His brother stared at him for a long moment as the blue leeched away, to be replaced by vivid, gleaming jade. Thor counted his heartbeats, waiting. Just waiting. And at last Loki sagged against him, all strength suddenly gone, and dropped his forehead against Thor's shoulder, shuddering as if with cold. Trembling hands came up to grip the sides of the older prince's blue tunic. Loki made a choked noise. The breath hitched in his throat as tremors racked the too-thin frame. Thor held his little brother tightly, trying to force the shivers to stillness. The brothers stood that way for several long, silent minutes as the emotion shuddered through the younger prince. Loki didn't weep, but he was as limp and boneless as an exhausted child when he at last stepped back from Thor.

"Father will be angry you've done this," Loki whispered. "Angry you entered my prison. I could have escaped, you know."

Thor shook his head. "I don't care. I would rather face Father's wrath over something so insignificant than Mother's grief over losing you again. Or Father's grief, for that matter. It would kill them both to lose you once more. And besides, you have not told me the entire story of you and your lady. If you wish to die, someone should remain who remembers all that she was, and all that you are. And Thanos should pay for what he did to my niece and my brother's wife."

Loki closed his eyes and sighed once, shakily. "Thor…this madness burns in me. Sometimes I hear Thea's voice calling to me. Sometimes she begs me to hold on, swears to find her way here and free me, to explain to everyone what happened…but then there are those times when I hear her enticing me to take a blade to my wrists to pay for my sins. What is real and what is illusion?"

"The woman you've told me of would _never_ ask such a thing of you, Loki," Thor replied. "Never. She loved you as much as you love her. If Thea could ask anything of you, it would be for you to hold on, not to give up. The woman you loved would never say such, and never to you."

Utterly exhausted, the prince whispered, "The voices, Thor…they almost never stop. I have a moment's peace now, but I don't know how long it will last. I…no!" Loki's hand flew to his temple as he gritted his teeth. Blue threaded through the green depths of his tormented gaze. "No…_no_…" Clenching his jaw, Loki squeezed his eyes shut. After the taut muscles relaxed, he opened his eyes to reveal pure viridian once more. "Sometimes I see her, but she never stays long, no matter what she commands of me. I can never touch her. And the voices, they fade in and out like whispers of a nightmare, but they never stop. It threatens to end me, Thor, this longing…and I welcome that end, if only to see her again. I would burn the world to ash, if only to see her again.

"The Other warned me once, you know. He told me that if I kept the tesseract from the Chitauri, if I betrayed them, they would teach me to regret it. That when they were through, I would long for something as sweet as mere pain. I thought he meant torture, death. I didn't think it would be this…hollow agony. This living death without her, without _them_." Loki shook his head. "You should have killed me, Thor."

"Loki…" Thor studied his brother, a sudden hunch tickling at the back of his brain. He gave no outward sign, but inwardly, he began recollecting all the times he'd seen Loki's eyes blaze so vividly blue and what his brother had been doing when the color had changed. Could it be…could it possibly be…

A vicious shudder ripped through Loki's body. "You should go, Brother, before Father arrives and sees you in here. He will be less angry if you're already gone."

Thor laid a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "I will come back tomorrow. I swear to you. Promise me you will not do this again."

After a brief eternity, Loki nodded wearily. "I promise you that…that I will wait until you have been told the entire story. Thea deserves to be remembered for all that she was. After that, I make no promises."

For now, the prince would have to be satisfied, because he needed to speak to his father. At long last, a question had been answered—the question of Loki's blue eyes. Thor might have been wrong, he wasn't altogether certain, but his instincts told him that the Chitauri were somehow still manipulating his brother. The question was, how?

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_**Author's Note**__: dun-dun-DUN! Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyway, not sure if I made this clear, but if you guys have been keeping up with the timeline here, Loki has been mentally tortured by these visions of Thea for 18 months. That is a LONG time. And it's getting worse over time. So just a warning, he's going to get worse. His hold on sanity is going to get…more messed up. Is there light at the end of the tunnel? You guys will just have to hang in there and trust me, yeah? Loves to you all! Let me know what you think of the new chapter. Huggles! Bye._


	20. Whatever Happened to Agent Coulson?

_**Author's Note**__: and now we come to one of the chapters I think you all have been waiting for. Who's excited? I'm super excited. I'm so excited, I'm asking my husband to bring me cookies. Our roommate made some a few days ago. Anywho, on to the chapter! I love you all and hope you enjoy it. Woot!_

_**Quick Request**__: I'm going to be posting my fanfic on my blog soon and I was wondering if those of you who have reviewed here could be persuaded to post your comments on my blog, as well when I post the chaps?_

_Okay, onward!_

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**Chapter Nineteen**

**Whatever Happened to Agent Coulson?**

Odin had aged since the time of his son's fall from the Bifröst. Thor could see that plainly enough as he told his father of what Loki had tried to do and the promise the crown prince had extracted from him afterward. Odin sank down onto the bench near the entrance to the dungeons; Thor had intercepted him on his way to answer the guards' alert that the heir to the throne had opened Prince Loki's prison. His father's single blue eye gleamed wetly. Odin's face had grown pale. He laced his fingers together tightly and simply stared at a blank space on the wall for what felt like hours. At last he ran a hand through his snow-white hair.

"He…tried to end his life?" The king curled his hand into a fist and pressed it tight to his pursed lips. He shook his head slowly. "No," he murmured. "No, Loki couldn't…he could not. Why would he do such a thing?"

Hating himself, Thor lifted his hands and dropped them back to his sides in a sign of helplessness. "He feels he has no reason to live, Father. Not with Thea and Sophie gone. He has sworn not to make such an attempt again before giving me the rest of his story, but after that…I know not what he may try. He believes you hate him."

Odin shook his head. "I am punishing him, but I could never hate my own son. What he did to Midgard—and to you, my son—cannot be forgiven so easily, but…how could he believe I do not love him? Does he feel the same about your mother?"

Thor sighed. "I don't know. His feelings for Mother are…complicated. He would do anything for her, I think. They have always been close. But Father, I think what doubts Loki has are being fed, enlarged, by the Chitauri."

Fury blazed in the sharp blue eye before quelling to smoldering embers. "The Chitauri? What influence do they have in Asgard?"

"I'm not certain, but Loki is hearing voices. Sophie crying as she dies. Thea screaming. And when these horrors cease, then he hears Thea pleading with him. Telling him to hold on, to wait for her to come to him…and sometimes trying to coax him into suicide."

_Suicide_. The word hung, heavy and ugly and sharp, on the air between father and son. Loki had tried to commit suicide. Would have ended his life in a flood of lethal red from cruelly opened veins if Thor hadn't been there to stop him. How desperate and hopeless must Loki be, to attempt such a thing? And yet…wasn't that exactly what he'd done when he let go of Gungnir's haft and allowed himself to fall from the Bifröst?

"Loki's eyes," Thor continued, trying to suppress the cold horror still churning in his belly, "are constantly changing color, and the change is too drastic for it to be the light. When he hears these voices, his eyes turn blue—the same blue as the tesseract, and the stone that powered the staff which the Chitauri gave Loki when he led the invasion into Midgard. When his moods suddenly shift like quicksilver, or when his rage gets the better of him, his eyes are almost always that same blue. Father, I believe the Chitauri are manipulating him, trying to drive him mad."

"But why? What can he do, imprisoned in that cell? He's half-mad already. What good would it do these monsters?"

_Don't you know? Chitauri power, their technology and their_ seiðr, _is fueled by blood and pain. Agony resonates with their power. Anguish and despair feed it, make it stronger. The Chitauri are a parasite that feed on bloodshed and pain_.

"They might be feeding off of him," Thor realized. Seeing Odin's baffled expression, he explained what Loki had told him about the ways of the Chitauri. "They might be fueling their power with his misery. They may not mean to drive him to his death—that may simply be that Loki cannot endure all they mean to force on him—but his agony and grief…they're feeding on it. Like parasites. Enhancing it so there is more to draw on."

Dismay twining with sick rage in his father's Cyclopean gaze, Odin nodded. "Yes. I had heard such things of them, but didn't know if they were truth or merely rumor. If they are feeding on my son and his pain…they will suffer for it."

Something was niggling at Thor's brain, something tangential to the conversation. The Chitauri fed on blood and pain. Their _seiðr_ required such to work. And Loki had said something once about spells, the similarity between illusion and…and something. He couldn't quite remember. And for some reason, Thor was also reminded of when his little brother had spoken of the delayed message of hope that had arrived too late. There was something whispering and tickling at the back of the prince's mind, but it wouldn't solidify into a solid thought. The more he tried to grasp at it, the more slippery it became, until it finally flitted away.

"I will put extra shields around the tesseract," Odin murmured, "in the event that the Chitauri are using it to hurt your brother. And I will speak to Eir and see if she might know of something to ease Loki's suffering. Do you believe he will permit a healer to attend him and see to his injuries?"

"I doubt it…unless Mother asked him to do it," Thor said when inspiration suddenly struck. "He would do anything for her, including that. It will be difficult for her to see him as he is now, but if she asked that he submit to a healer's attentions, I believe he would."

Odin nodded, looking weary to his bones. "I will speak to her of it. For now, my son, it is late. You and I both need our sleep. Come. And Thor?" The prince paused, watching the king with raised brows. "It was reckless of you to go into Loki's cell as you did…but I am most glad that you did it. Thank you, my son."

**.**

Though he'd gone to bed late, Thor woke abominably early from dreams of finding Loki's corpse, wrist-veins gaping and gasping for the blood his little brother had spilled in desperation and despair. When the Asgardian opened his eyes, he was momentarily disoriented by the darkness. Then he realized the sun had yet to even rise. His rooms were bitterly cold from the winter chill; the solstice was not far off. Dressing hurriedly, the prince shoved his feet into boots to protect them from the vicious, icy bite of the stone floor and went in search of breakfast.

He found it—and Tyr, looking unusually morose—seated at one of the long tables in the banqueting hall. Seeing his elder brother reminded him that there was something he needed to ask of Tyr in light of the previous night's events. Wondering if he were making a mistake, Thor took a seat beside his elder brother. A serving maid, yawning on her feet, brought him a platter of sausage and other meats, as well as fresh bread and a flagon of hot mulled cider.

"Good morning, little thunderer," Tyr mumbled, sipping from his own mug. Thor caught the rich scent of his brother's favorite ale. A small smile tugged at Tyr's lips. "How are you this fine, frigid morning?"

Thor shrugged. "Well enough." Only Tyr ever got away with calling Thor "little thunderer," a nickname the younger prince had earned when he'd picked up Mjölnir for the first time as a small boy. He'd had help, of course; Mjölnir was too heavy even for the mighty Thor to lift by himself at that age. It had always been a fond memory shared with two of his brothers, though somewhat embarrassing, and one of the only memories Thor still had from that long ago…

**.**

_"Now wrap your fingers around the haft, good and tight. Just like that. A warrior must know how to treat his weapons." Odin beamed at his son, ruffling the lad's golden hair, which made it stand up in wild tawny spikes. "Can you lift it yourself?"_

_Thor tried, he really did, but the hammer was just so heavy. The young prince frowned at the hammer, but didn't kick it out of revenge—even though he desperately wanted to. Stupid Myeh-Myeh. Didn't it know it was supposed to let him pick it up? He was the prince! But if the hammer wouldn't let him, he knew a way to get some help. Looking around, blue eyes lit upon a slender, familiar figure in dark green and white walking next to Tyr, Thor's elder brother. Thor waved._

_"Loh-ee!" Frowning, the prince tried again. "Loki!" He always had trouble with the_ cuh-_sound in his twin brother's name for some reason. He couldn't understand it. "Loki! Come here!"_

_"Thor!" Loki jogged over, grinning at his twin. "What're you doing?"_

_"Trying to lift Myeh-Myeh." Thor glanced surreptitiously at his father, who was watching with that smile on his face that said Thor was doing something funny. Thor wasn't trying to do anything funny, and he didn't want his father to laugh, so he lowered his voice. "Will you help me?"_

_Loki's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. He looked over his shoulder to see if his twin was talking to Tyr, but Tyr was several paces away, watching with the same smile their father had. Loki looked back at Thor. "Me?"_

_Thor nodded. "I need your help. Will you help me? It's heavy."_

_"Well, 'course it is," Loki said, as if that should be obvious. He frowned at the hammer, his thin brows pushing together as he bent over to give it a closer look. "It's Myeh-Myeh. It's s'posed to be heavy." Green eyes flicked to Odin, who merely watched his sons, then settled on Thor's blue gaze full of pleading. Loki smiled. "Yes. I'll help."_

_The two boys wrapped their hands around the haft of Mjölnir and strained with all their might to lift it up. Slowly, slow, it began to rise from the floor. Childish arms quivered with strain and the boys groaned with effort as a hair's breadth of empty space appeared between Mjölnir and the floor. Loki and Thor glanced at each other, panting for breath, then set their narrow shoulders and heaved with all their strength, trying to lift the hammer. The breath of space between hammer and floor widened just a touch._

_"We got it," Thor panted. "Look!"_

_"Look, Father!" Loki cried._

_And then a booming crack of thunder rattled the Treasure Room_. Seiðr _flooded through Mjölnir and another peal of raucous thunder exploded through the room. Thor and Loki, already precariously balanced, jumped at the sudden eruption of noise and lost hold of the hammer. It clanged to the floor with a hollow sound. Thor grabbed hold of Loki.  
__  
__"Thunder," Thor whispered. He hated storms. Hated getting rained on—it made his hair look like a girl's—and hated lightning hitting the trees and hated the deafening peels of thunder. He_ especially _hated the thunder. It sounded like Frost Giants playing nine-pins. He hated Frost Giants. They came into your room in the middle of the night, stole you away, and cooked you in their stewpots._

_Loki put his arms around his twin. "It's just thunder. It can't hurt you. It's just loud."_

_"Hurts my ears."_

_"Don't be scared, little thunderer," Tyr called from behind them. Both young boys turned to their brother. Tyr was the crown prince, which just meant he'd be king when Father didn't want to be anymore. More importantly, he was almost grown up. He had black hair like Loki's, but blue eyes like Thor's. Both little princes adored him. Thor couldn't stand it when Tyr teased him about being scared of things. "That's what happens when any warrior of the royal family lifts Mjölnir."_

_"He's not scared," Loki said matter-of-factly, like they were talking about the weather or something. "Thor's braver than anybody. He just doesn't like thunder. Don't be mean to him. You don't like spiders, but_ we _don't be mean to_ you."

_Tyr rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, bookworm. Did you want to learn to play chess or not?"_

_Loki glanced at Thor. "Wanna come?"_

_Thor wrinkled his nose. "Chess is for girls."_

_"Father plays chess."_

_"So does Mumma," Thor reminded his twin. "She plays it with Eir all the time."_

_Loki shrugged. "Then it's for everybody. Even you. Come on. We'll be a team and defeat Tyr. Just like yesterday with the snowball fight."_

_Their older brother snorted. "I let you both win. If I'd beaten you, you would have started crying like babies."_

_"Loki," Thor whispered, aghast. "He called us babies. We_

_ have to beat him now."_

_The green-eyed prince nodded, giving Tyr a measuring look. "Yes, we do. We'll show him. No one can beat us at anything."_

_"Except Father," Thor murmured, gesturing to that esteemed personage, who was busy laughing to himself on the bench where he'd been sitting during the entirety of the conversation. Loki shrugged._

_"Father doesn't count. He's Father."_

_Thor considered this for a moment, then nodded. "To war, then!"_

_"To war!" Loki echoed, grabbing his twin's hand and thrusting both their hands in the air. "For Asgard!"_

_"For Asgard!"_

_"I live in Asgard, too," Tyr reminded them, but he knew they weren't listening, so he gave up after that token protest and led them to the gaming room where their little "war" would commence, leaving Odin laughing behind them at the antics of his sons.  
_

**.**

Tyr nudged Thor with his elbow, jarring him from the old memory. He and Loki had been an inseparable team then. What had happened?

"Did you want something, Thor, or were you just hoping to enjoy my company?" His brother smiled at the crown prince. Tyr's eyes were bloodshot. Had he been out all night drinking, wenching, and gambling? Thor frowned. That didn't sound like the eldest prince. Tyr enjoyed carousing—perhaps more than he should have—but he never stayed out _all_ night.

"I wanted to speak to you," Thor said, giving away none of his thoughts. "About Loki."

Tyr gave him a sharp look and growled, "I have nothing to say regarding that treacherous piece of Frost Giant sc—"

"Loki tried to commit suicide last night," Thor said softly, and Tyr's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. The eldest prince stared the heir with wide, disbelieving eyes. "I do not care at this moment how you feel about him, whether you're merely angry, or whether you truly hate him as you seem intent on convincing me. I don't care. I am telling you that you will leave Loki completely alone for now. The slightest push could send him over the edge. If that happens, do _you_ want to be the one to explain to Mother why you drove her son to suicide?"

Tyr's mouth moved soundlessly for several seconds before he managed to make a sound. Blinking dazedly, he shook his head and whispered, "Suicide? Why?"

Thor swallowed hard. "Why does any man? Because he feels he has nothing left to live for. I know not whether you care for Loki at all, but unless you wish his death—"

"He's my brother," Tyr whispered. "A traitor and a Frost Giant, but…but you cannot think I don't love him. The man we knew may be dead, replaced by that monster, but he is still my brother. Bor's ghost, it isn't as if I want him dead."

"You torment him as if you hate him."

"He had everything I wanted," Tyr spat, eyes blazing like the blue heart of a flame. "_Everything_. The crown, Mother's approval, her trust. _Father's_ trust. Everything I wanted and lost, he had it! They gave it all to him, and he wasn't even of our blood. And then what does he do? He throws it away. I have every right to be furious with him for that, and for what he did to you, but he is still my little brother. Traitor, murderer, coward, liar, thief, but still my brother. How dare you think I would wish him harm?"

One golden brow rose. "After the way you spoke to him, you can ask me that?"

The older Asgardian scowled. "I was angry. And he called me a swine."

"You called his wife a whore," Thor said coolly, and was rewarded by a startled jerk of Tyr's hand that spilled half his mug of ale on his plate of breakfast meats. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Thor waited.

"His wife? That woman, the one he draws…she is his _wife?_" Tyr took a swallow of ale, then seemed to think better of it and drained his mug. Slamming it down on the table, he muttered, "I would not have said that if I'd known who she was. A sporting woman is one thing. A wife is another. I didn't know." Tyr raked a hand through his dark hair. "So where is she, this sister of ours that I knew nothing about?"

Thor sighed. "Dead."

Tyr's eyes widened in shock. "Dead?" His gaze turned inward, and he nodded as if something had been confirmed. "No wonder he grew so enraged. Dead. How?"

"The Chitauri. They murdered her and Loki's daughter the day he was captured on Midgard." Understanding and dismay crystallized in Tyr's gaze and Thor nodded. "Leave Loki be for now, Tyr. He is more fragile than any of us realized."

"You have my word," the eldest prince vowed softly. "Thank you for telling me this."

"Thank you for listening."

**.**

Sparring with Sif and the Three didn't help with Thor's restiveness—perhaps because he could see the questions flickering in their eyes, demanding he answer them. So after working himself into a lather with his friends, he went to see Heimdall, to ask about any progress made by his friends on Midgard.

Standing on the edge of the Bifröst, looking out into the beautiful vastness of space, Thor murmured, "What do you see, Heimdall?"

The Gatekeeper didn't turn toward his prince; merely stood, broad shoulders straight and head held high as he surveyed the Nine Realms and beyond with his powerful eyes. His deep voice rumbled in his chest when he said, "I see the Man of Iron and the scholar you call Banner searching for the information you requested. Anthony Stark speaks to a powerful mortal known as Dr. Henry McCoy over the phone, asking about the woman Prince Loki has spoken of. Banner speaks to another powerful mortal, Eric Lenscher. The woman known as Pepper is studying information about money and travel; it is related to their search in some way."

Thor nodded. He'd known his friends would be hard at work, doing as he'd asked. So the prince asked the question he always asked when he spoke to Heimdall. "Can you see Jane?"

Heimdall nodded. "She still searches for you. She has not given up hope." At last the Gatekeeper turned to Thor. "Nor have you given up hope of seeing her again…or of somehow healing Prince Loki's mind and heart. But his words have cast shadows across your heart, my prince. You do not trust me as you once did."

He hesitated, then sighed. "Why did you allow Sif and the Three to go to Midgard after me, when my father and Loki had forbidden it?"

"I feared your brother meant to assassinate the king while he remained in the Odinsleep," Heimdall murmured. "I feared he would be a threat to Asgard if left unchallenged."

"Did you ever think I might be a threat to Asgard?"

Heimdall said nothing for a time, but then whispered, "Yes."

"Why did you choose me over Loki? Why did you believe him to be the greater danger?"

"Because he hid himself from me. You never did."

Thor frowned. "I don't understand. What has that to do with it?"

"I could neither see nor hear your brother while he was going about his plans. I did not know what he might bring down on Asgard. I had no way to prepare for whatever threats might come. You had not the skill to hide yourself from me. Any danger you brought to this Realm, I would be able to see, and thus prepare."

"Why did you think Loki would hurt Father?"

"Why else bring Frost Giants into Asgard? Why bring Laufey himself here?"

Thor met Heimdall's burning gold eyes and said, "To do exactly what he did—eliminate a threat to the Realm. Do you regret what you did?"

The Gatekeeper's face remained expressionless as he repeated, "Regret?"

The prince nodded. "If you had kept Sif and the Three from leaving Asgard, none of what occurred after they left would have happened. Do you ever wonder about that? If you had done just one thing different, all would be different. Does that make you regret?"

"Sometimes," Heimdall replied softly. "You may remember that Loki was once a regular visitor to the Bifröst Gatehouse when he was young. We would talk often of the Realms and the stars and all the worlds beyond Yggdrasil. You ask, do I regret what my young friend has now become? I do. Do I regret my part in it? Yes. Perhaps I should not have allowed your friends through the Bifröst. Perhaps if I hadn't, even worse things would have come about because of my inaction. I do not know."

After thinking about this for a few minutes, Thor nodded slowly. "Nor do I. We can only do what we can with what we know. Ignorance is a weakness the Gatekeeper of Asgard cannot permit himself, is it, Heimdall? You were chosen for your ability to see the Realms with your hawk's eyes, to hear the life pulsing through it with your fox's ears. I cannot imagine what it would be like, to suddenly lose that ability. To not know if someone you'd always trusted meant to destroy everything you loved."

Heimdall nodded. "Yes. But you speak not only of me, my prince. You speak of Loki…and of you. If what Loki has told you is truth, you could not know it then. You are not to blame for the death of the woman and child mourned by the prince."

"You have regrets, Heimdall," Thor murmured, "and so do I. My regret is somehow making Loki think I was someone he could not trust when he needed me most. How would things have changed if he had asked for my help? If I'd tried to rescue Thea and Sophie? Would my brother be the tortured wreck that he is?"

"We cannot know, my prince. You can only try to make it right by him now."

Thor sighed. "Make it right…if I can. Heimdall, can you see the Chitauri?"

"No, my prince."

"If they were in Asgard…if anything of theirs came here…would you be able to see it? Sense it?"

The Gatekeeper hesitated. "I do not know for certain. Why do you ask this?"

"I think the Chitauri might still be influencing Loki. If they have a foothold here, I need to know. If such a thing exists, you must find it, Heimdall. I have spoken of this to my father and he agrees—the Chitauri cannot be allowed to use my brother any longer. Will you keep watch?"

"I will," Heimdall replied. Thor nodded his thanks, then turned to walk back toward Asgard. It was nearly time to speak to Loki again. But before he'd taken more than a dozen steps, the Gatekeeper's rich voice arrested him. "The king knows, and you ought to be told—the svartálfar are gathering in the heart of Svartálfheimr."

Thor turned slowly back to Heimdall. "The Dark Elves? They are gathering again?" The last time the Elves of the Dark World had gathered together, it had resulted in a war with Asgard that had left thousands dead. Their leader, Malekith, had sworn revenge on Odin…and it was rumored that the Dark Elf had a reason to despise the Asgardian queen even more than the All-Father, though no one but Odin and Frigga knew if this were true or not, and they would not speak of it.

Heimdall nodded. "They mean to war on us again. Because of the shattered Bifröst, there is little we can do besides prepare our defenses. We cannot take the conflict to them as we might have in the past. However," here Heimdall's fiery gaze turned back to the cosmos stretching out before him, "there is someone in that shielded mortal stronghold who I believe is working on a way to create another Bifröst."

"Another Bifröst?"

"It is merely a fleeting impression, but I believe that is something you should look into when you and Prince Víðarr journey to Midgard again, my prince."

Numbly, Thor nodded. Another Bifröst. Who on Midgard could possess the necessary knowledge to create such a thing? "I will," he mumbled to Heimdall, and moved off in search of Loki.

**.**

"How are you feeling, Loki?" Thor asked gently when he approached his brother's cell. The younger prince lay on his cot, eyes closed, but Thor knew Loki didn't sleep. "Have you had any rest since last night?"

"I dreamed of her," Loki whispered. The thin, dark brows drew together as he took in a long breath and let it out in a ragged sigh. "I lay my head in her lap and she asked me why I was so sad. I tried to tell her that I missed her, that living without her bore down on me like the sea smashing against rock and pounding it to dust…and she smiled and asked me, 'Why is the moon so lonely?'"

Thor raised a brow. "The moon?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "It was a story she used to tell me during the two months after the Chitauri took us out of that festering hell-pit. She learned it from her art teacher. The Chitauri left us to…recover in that grand suite of rooms for nearly two moons. It was another of their tricks to manipulate us, though we didn't know it at the time. They left us to stew in fear and dread, wondering when Thanos would summon us, with no contact beyond each other. They thought it would strike fear in our hearts. Fools."

"What did it do?"

"It gave us a chance to recover, to heal. Thea actually gained some weight, and I stopped fearing for Sophie—in that regard, at least. It came to the point when I could no longer count Thea's ribs when she dressed in the mornings, and I was glad. We kept track of time using Thea's cell phone, which was brought to her on the fifth day. We emerged from the bathing room to find her things deposited on the table along with our breakfast. Her phone battery was half-depleted by that point, but she only turned the device on occasionally to track the date. It was how she kept track of time in our prison.

"Thea grew stronger, healthier. My magic slowly collected within me, like water in a cistern. I used a little bit every day to check on Sophie, to strengthen the shield around her, but the rest I hoarded for when we planned to make our escape.

"For a long time, we slept a great deal. It was so good to be able to sleep with her in my arms; I didn't fear discovery any longer, because we had already been discovered. It was so good to fall asleep with the weight of her on my chest and her breath against my neck. Sometimes, even now, I wake thinking I feel the kiss of her breath on my skin. In the dream last night, I could feel it. I could feel _her_."

Loki's hands scrunched in the fabric of his green tunic and he whispered, "I would give anything to feel her fingertips against my face as I did in that dream. You see, Brother, the moon is lonely because she once had a lover, but through guile and trickery, he was lost to her…just as my moon, my Althea, lost me…or as I lost her, through Chitauri cunning and cruelty. I was a fool. If only I had managed to convince Banner…"

Thor jolted. "Banner?"

"We needed him," Loki replied without looking at his brother. "Thea and I. We didn't want the beast that makes play he's still a man. We needed the man, the healer. If I had been able to bring him to my side, I might have been able to save Thea and Sophie. He might have been able to find a secondary antidote to the Chitauri poison."

"You wanted Banner for _Thea?_ Not your invasion force?"

"He's a doctor," the green-eyed prince replied. "Didn't you know that about your old comrade? I discovered when I took control of the mortal archer that SHIELD knew of a brilliant Midgardian healer named Bruce Banner, who spent his time tending the stricken in vicious epidemics all over the world. If this man would do such for people he didn't know, surely he would do so for me. Because the antidote the Chitauri gave me for the cumulative poison they slipped into Thea's veins came with too high a price."

Cumulative poison, Thor thought, chilled. No wonder Loki hadn't been able to escape as he'd intended. Such poisons were nearly impossible to detect, and one a victim had been poisoned, their bodies required that poison—or its antidote—in order to survive. If it was a Chitauri poison, Loki wouldn't have been able to obtain and give it to Thea to aid in their escape.

Yet he'd said he'd had an antidote. What price could be too high, when his brother was willing to sacrifice an entire Realm for Thea's sake? "And what was the price?"

"Sophie's life," Loki whispered. Thor's throat went dry, his chest tight. "The antidote would have killed our child in the womb. I…I didn't know what to do when the Chitauri told me what they'd done—given Thea a poison that would kill her if they didn't either administer the antidote or continue feeding her the poison itself.

"Thea was more than four months with child by then, and we had already begun to…to communicate with Sophie through Thea's gift. She could _feel_ Sophie's emotions through her talent. She was reading her memories of us…I can hardly explain it. She was _aware_ of us, of Thea and me. Somehow. Through _seiðr_ of her own, I think. Even then, so young and small, she was aware of us. I don't know how. Perhaps it was the combination of my magic and Thea's powers.

"I'm not sure, but…but we _knew_ her, even then, and when the Chitauri told us what they had done to make sure I could not betray them without sacrificing my daughter, I…I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose my only child when I already loved her so much, and I couldn't lose Thea. And so I hoped to find someone on Midgard—Thea's favored Dr. McCoy, if possible—who could make another antidote that wouldn't hurt Sophie. But then I learned of the famous Dr. Banner and knew it would be easier to deceive the Chitauri about why I wanted _him_ than if I tried to contact Dr. McCoy.

"But things didn't go quite as I had hoped, and the staff kept dragging at my attention, making it so hard to think clearly. It fueled the rage and the fear in me until I thought I would choke on them, until I thought I must vomit them up or cut them out of me if there was to be anything of me left after the storm of them. When they first taught me to use the staff, it was the same. I would return to my rooms, and Thea would be there waiting…"

**.**

_Two months of waiting to be summoned, only to be told that Thanos had decided to have the Other instruct Loki in the ways of Chitauri seiðr. There had only been a brief mention of Thea—that the newest Chitauri general could continue to take his pleasure in his lovely young mate, so long as he obeyed Thanos' edicts. Through gritted teeth, Loki spat his agreement. And then the lessons began._

_Now he trudged back to his chambers, ignoring the drones chittering and hissing in their sick, twisted language. Fury pounded through his veins like hot, black poison in time with his thundering heart. He tasted fear, like the copper-salt tang of blood, on the back of his tongue. Spasms shuddered through his hands as they convulsed around the golden handle of the Chitauri staff, which glowed a sinister blue in the dimness of the corridors._

_The moment the doors of his suite slid open, Loki flung the staff as hard as he could against the wall. It clanged against the wall before striking the floor. The mazarine stone held in the glittering spikes at the head of the staff still glowed sullenly from the spot where it had fallen behind Thea's packs._

_Thea watched him from where she sat by a holographic window. When Loki had informed the Other in acid tones that his wife and unborn child required actual sunshine in order to remain healthy, the Chitauri had installed the window. It wasn't real sunlight and moonglow and starshine, but it was enough to help restore the rest of the healthy color to Thea's skin._

_Now a full, silvery moon beamed through the window behind his wife. Her hands rested on the small curve of her belly. After more than four months, that curve was one of his favorite things to touch. It was one of the few things he had to look forward to after being worked like a slave by the blind creature that served Thanos—coming back to these rooms, laying his hands and cheek against his wife's belly, and using a few drops of magic to inspect their unborn child._

_But not today. Today, the half-insane rage pulsing in his blood threatened to blind him. A black spot throbbed in the corner of his vision. His breath whistled through his teeth. Damn them. Damn them all. When could they get out of this place? He had to take Thea and leave as soon as possible or he would go mad in the darkness saturated with hate. Only this candlelit room served as a refuge against the hellish Chitauri warrens, and this time, it wasn't enough._

_"Loki—"_

_"Be quiet," he growled, turning away from her. "Just…don't speak. Just wait." He went to the wall and without a hitch in his stride slammed his fist into the wall over and over again. Thea made a small sound and covered her mouth as Loki rammed his fist into the wall until his knuckles bled and throbbed. Then he stopped, dropping his forehead against the wall, and merely breathed for a moment. "All right," he whispered at last._

_"What happened?" Thea asked gently. "Do I need to take a sledgehammer to the deranged Cyclops with leprosy? Because I can do that. Or I can turn him into a flea."_

_He huffed a strangled laugh. "A flea?"_

_"Yeah. A harmless little flea. Then I can put that flea inside of a box, and then put that box inside of another box, and then mail that box to myself. And when it arrives—this is the best part—I'll smash it with a hammer. It's brilliant, I tell you."_

_"Genius."_

_"I know, right? Aren't you glad I'm on your side? Who else loves you to sparkly confetti bits? Not Captain Leprosy out there, that's for sure. Although you know, that might cost a lot in postage, so to save money I can just rip him into little pieces with a rusty wooden spork."_

_Loki turned his head a fraction to look at her and raised an eyebrow. "Wood doesn't rust."_

_"Shhh. I'm threatening the people who irritate you. My spork is magical, thank you. I got it from a pair of leprechauns in a Brooklyn drag bar. It's a magical wooden spork that rusts specifically to infect people with incurable super-tetanus. So let me spork them to death. Let me find my spork. Where's my spork?" She straightened up and started to get to her feet, only to pause and smack the wall with the flat of her palm. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my…oh. Oh, my gosh. Whoa."_

_He immediately went to her. "What is it? Is it the baby?" Loki put his arm around her, placing his hand against her belly. "What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing, I'm fine. That was just…she just whacked me. I think that was her head. It just took me by surprise. It was a little harder than normal."_

_Loki tried to suppress the swift pang of longing that lodged behind his breastbone. Their child had quickened almost a month ago; Thea had been feeling small movements deep in her womb, like the flutter of butterfly wings beneath the skin. Several times she'd put his hand against her belly where Sophie was moving, but he'd felt nothing. Thea always had such a look of love and wonder on her face when Sophie kicked; Loki wanted to share in that…but so far he'd been disappointed._

_Suddenly Thea gasped again. "Jeez, someone's doing back-flips in there. Wait…" Her eyes widened; she grabbed his hand and moved it over by about an inch. Something thumped softly against Loki's palm. Green eyes snapped wide and he stared, mouth agape, as the baby kicked very lightly against his hand. Thea grinned happily._

_"She's kicking," Thea whispered. "Hard. Can you feel that? Loki, she's kicking."_

_Loki sank to his knees and placed his hands on either side of her belly. "Yes, I can." Another soft thump hit one palm. "She's strong. Oh, hello, little one. My_

_ älskling, my little valkyrie. You can kick me all you like, sweet darling."_

_"You shouldn't tell her that," Thea informed him with a smile. "She'll beat the crap out of you after she's born."_

_"I am a prince of Asgard," Loki said loftily. "I fear nothing."_

_"She's going to stomp all over you," his wife said sweetly. "It will be hilarious. She's going to jump on you and smush you and do a tap-dance on your chest and it will be awesome. I'll record it on my phone and show it to your brother when we finally meet him—whenever that is. He'll see you get owned by a squidgy little baby. She's kicking you again."_

_He nodded dreamily. All the rage had disappeared, leaving only sweet wonder behind. "Yes. She's a miracle, Thea."_

_"Yeah, wait until we can't have sex anymore because I'm so fat. See if you think she's a miracle then." When Loki opened his mouth, Thea added, "This had better not be you telling me that you can forego sex in order to see me turned into Shamoo."_

_"Älskling, I would find you appealing no matter what you looked like. After last night, you should know that."_

_"Smooth. Very smooth. But you were upset about something before Sophie started her little dance routine. What's wrong?"_

_Loki sighed. "I was…angry."_

_"Yeah, I can see that. Your hand's bleeding," she said softly. Loki wasted a dash of magic to heal his oozing knuckles and throbbing bones. "You beat the crud out of the wall. If it had teeth, it would be picking them up off the floor. What did the poor wall ever do to you?"_

_"The wall had it coming."_

_She nodded. "I gotcha. It was breathing your air. The nerve."_

_He laughed softly and laid his cheek against her belly. He actually felt the baby push against his cheek, a sliding motion as if Sophie were trying to soothe him, too. Did she have some of Thea's empathy already? Could his daughter feel his distress? But all Loki said was, "I must use that…object because the Other demands it, but I can hardly bear to touch the wretched thing. It sickens me to use that tainted seiðr. It sets the darkness in me ablaze with hatred and I can scarcely control it. I find myself thinking such vicious things about…well, everyone. Except you and Sophie."_

_Thea ran her fingers lightly through his hair. It was a comfort he hadn't known before their wedding night; her fingers combing through the thick dark hair as she kissed him, soothed him. "You need Prozac. When we get to Earth, I'll get you some Prozac. And some therapy. We'll drug you up with Prozac and triple-fudge brownies until you're higher than a kite on sugar. We'll get chocolate-wasted together."_

_Chuckling softly, Loki pulled back far enough to look up at her. "I adore you. Utterly. You and her," he added, glancing at Thea's stomach. "The two of you are all that make this bearable."_

_"We'll get out of here," Thea whispered. "Eventually. We'll have a prison-break and burn the whole place down like in that Alice Cooper song. 'School's out for the summer! School's out forever!' We'll totally bust out of here, babe. I know we will. Although you do realize that you'll be trading one form of slavery for another."_

_Loki arched an eyebrow. "Oh, indeed?"_

_"She's already got you wrapped around her little finger," she informed him. "She has those, you know. Fingers. And toes. I had to read a book on pregnancy and babies for a project in college, so I know these things. Do you think her toes are cuter than mine?" Thea wiggled the aforementioned appendages. "I'd have to be jealous of anyone but Sophie if you thought my toes didn't rate first place in the Cuteness Contest. Ow." Silver-blue eyes glared down at her belly. "Those were my ribs you just smacked with your little head, young lady. Well, now we know she's related to you."_

_"Because she has a hard head like my brother's?"_

_"Yep. Here that, Sophie-girl? Just like Uncle Thor. Now come on," Thea added to Loki, taking his hand. She tugged him to his feet. "Come have dinner. We'll make fun of Captain Freakazoid's icky face while we eat. On second thought," she made a face, "no. We won't. That's gross. We'll talk about what our girl's been up to today. Do you know, it's a good thing this isn't a hotel, because this one," Thea pointed at her stomach, "eats like a teenage boy. _

_"Oh, hey, pickles. Ohmigawsh, I love pickles. I used to hate pickles but someone, who shall remain nameless—Sophie—has taken control of my brain with her nefarious baby mind-control and she's making me eat pickles and they taste so good, Loki. I will die if I don't eat all these pickles. So good. Ambrosia. 'Scuse me while I talk with my mouth full. So I found out my voice is only acceptable for singing lullabies when you aren't here."_

_Dropping into the chair beside Thea's, he raised his eyebrows in exhausted inquiry. "Oh? How can you be sure?"_

_"Um, because she head-bangs against my spleen if I try to sing to her when you're not out being trained to be the next Charles Manson. When you're gone, if I hum or sing, she just does that little wiggle-worm dance she does when she's happy. If you're here, I get beat up by someone half the size of a curled-up loaf of bread. Or maybe a small boot."_

_She rubbed her belly. "You're a cute boot, Sophie. Ow. Okay, you're not a boot. Ow! Okay, okay, I'm eating the pickles, jeez. And yes, I know, Daddy sings better than me. But Daddy's tired, so…why am I eating a salad made out of raspberries, sliced pickles, cheese, croutons, and candied orange slices? Where did the Chitauri even_

_ get these? I'm living in the Twilight Zone. Oof. That was my pancreas you just face-smacked, thank you, Pop-tart. Here, look, I'm eating the freaky salad you like so much. Yes, I know you can't see through the walls of my uterus, deal with it. Quit hitting me."_

_Loki chuckled. What made this even more amusing was that he knew Thea had these one-sided conversations with their unborn child even when he wasn't here. "My mother made similar complaints when she carried my younger brothers," he said. "That they moved about a great deal and left her feeling a bit bruised. It is the Asgardian way. We…they bear strong offspring."_

_Thea swallowed her bite of raspberry and pickle. "Frost Giants have epic babies, too. I should know, I've got a half-Frost Giant kidlet playing the bongos in my stomach right now. She got the best of both worlds. That's probably why it feels like I'm being smacked with a foam croquet mallet whenever she kicks really hard; Frost Giant blood. So, after we eat our stale bread crusts and broccoli…mmm, broccoli. What was I saying?"_

_"That it's difficult for you to think about anything other than food now that you're carrying my child?"_

_Playfully, she stuck her tongue out. "You're the one who knocked me up and got my Eggo all preggo. Oh, man, now I want waffles, but womb-service is taking a brief hiatus until I finish this bizarre…whatever I just put together. This." She indicated the bizarre salad. "Anyway, as I was saying, after we finish dinner, you want to watch a movie? I haven't shown you Tangled yet. You'll like the duel between the army horse and the hot thief."_

_"I'd like that," he murmured. It was the best part of every day—spending his evenings with his wife and unborn daughter. And then the nights…"What shall we do after that?"_

_Thea pursed her lips in thought. "You can rub my feet. Some cute and adorable, cantaloupe-sized cuddly person is having too much fun in their big squishy waterbed and making my ankles swell up a little. And I know you like tickling me."_

_Oh, yes, he did. She made the most interesting sounds when he ran his fingers over the elegant arches of her feet. "And after that?"_

_A cat-like smile curled her lips. "I can't really think of anything worth doing after that. I might need some help thinking of something. Lose the shirt, it might jog my memory."_

_For the first time, a real smile that had nothing to do with the miracle of a new life curved Loki's mouth. His eyes drifted from Thea's face—still too pale for his liking, but so very beautiful—down her body until his gaze was arrested by the obstacle of the table. When his gaze slid back to her face, he found her watching him with slightly parted lips and smoky blue eyes. A tremor whispered through Thea when their eyes met. The breath hitched in Loki's chest._

_"The movie can wait," Loki murmured, getting to his feet._

_Thea nodded vehemently as her husband moved to her side and pulled her to her feet before drawing her into the circle of his arms. "Oh, yeah. Totally can wait—" His mouth on hers cut her off._

_They eventually got around to finishing dinner and watching Tangled. Loki had to admit, the sight of a grown man and thief, armed only with a skillet and dueling a horse armed with a sword, was remarkably funny. This Walt Disney, whoever he was, had to have Asgardian blood in his background. There was no possible way he'd been purely mortal._

_**.**_

In the third week after Thor's visit to Midgard, Loki finally answered a question that had been plaguing the crown prince for many months.

"Why did you have the Destroyer break my neck?"

Loki had been staring into the fire, pale-faced but looking a bit more rested than Thor had seen him in some time. He'd had sweet dreams of Thea every night for the past week or so. His father must have done something to the _seiðr_ of the prison, Thor thought. But now Loki turned to the prince with a melancholy expression.

"I had to."

Thor shook his head. "I do not understand, Brother. You had to kill me?"

"You wouldn't have died."

"I _did_ die," Thor said sharply, then had to swallow back his irritation so he could speak calmly. "My heart stopped for a moment. Heimdall told me later that my heart actually ceased beating."

Loki nodded. "I know. I was listening. But you did not _stay_ dead."

"Did you know I wouldn't stay dead?"

After a long silence, Loki shook his head. "I hoped. I prayed. I took a risk, but it worked. I needed to test you because I knew no matter what I did, you would be back soon. I could only delay you; I couldn't stop you. If you came back, with everything Sif and the Three and Heimdall had done, I wouldn't be able to stay and make sure you became what Father had wanted you to be. I knew I would no longer be welcome in Asgard unless our Father awoke, or unless I could _prove_ to you…so I had to test you."

"Test me?" Thor leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees. His heart knifed sideways in his chest as he asked softly, "Test me how?"

_Please, Loki_, he prayed silently. _Please let this be a good reason. Please show me I wasn't wrong to trust you, Brother_.

"You offered me your life in exchange for a people you'd once thought beneath you. Did you expect me to take it?"

Thor shook his head. "I never thought my brother would try to kill me. Not my twin, my shadow."

Loki laughed softly and shook his head. "That was the problem. You offered your life, never truly believing you would have to part with it. I had to prove you wrong. I had to make your sacrifice real. Once it was real, Mjölnir would come back to your hand."

"How did you know that was how it would go?"

"Because I was listening when Father exiled you," he said. "You had to be worthy of the power of Thor—the power of the crown prince of Asgard. And I knew how Mjölnir worked."

"How did you know that?"

Loki smiled wanly. "There is a remarkable invention you may have heard of, my brother. Flat, rectangular objects made of wood and leather, filled with marked paper that holds vast stores of information. They're called books. You _read_ them; a novel idea, I know. We even have such wonders here in Asgard. Whole rooms of such. They're called libraries."

Thor canted his head. Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. "Shut up."

"You walked right into that."

A laugh escaped the Asgardian as he nodded in rueful acknowledgement. "Aye, I did. I did." But then his amusement faded. "So my death…what? What did it prove?"

"It proved you were what a king should be—a man willing to lay down his life for those he had sworn to protect. Because of the Destroyer's presence, you learned humility, how to forego glory to defend what was most precious, and most importantly, what you were willing to sacrifice. Only when you accepted that your death was necessary to protect those Midgardians did Mjölnir come back to you." Loki glanced at his foster brother and murmured, "I don't think Father will ever forgive me for that. Hurting you that way."

"He will," Thor said. "Eventually. I have."

The stricken, hopeful look that flashed too briefly across Loki's drawn face sent pain twisting savagely in Thor's chest. Then Loki looked away. "You haven't asked me about what happened on Midgard, except for Coulson and Banner."

"The Chitauri forced you to invade…but why go for Erik? You knew he was my friend. Why did you take him under your thrall?"

"So that your friend wouldn't risk death when the SHIELD stronghold began to collapse. I couldn't allow myself to care about the others, not with my wife and daughter's lives hanging in the balance. But I knew…I knew you would hate me for what I was about to do, and I hoped you would hate me a little less for protecting your friend."

"Then you stabbed Coulson through the heart."

Loki sighed. "It was necessary."

"But why? You protected one friend and ki—injured another. Why? Why was it necessary?"

Loki bowed his head and sighed again. Ran his hands through his hair. Leaning back in his chair, he dropped his head back so he could stare up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. Through gritted teeth, he said, "I am going to tell you something…but you won't believe me. Do you remember when I told you about the Midgardian invention known as the telegram?"

Baffled, Thor nodded. Loki's words about the mortal device rang clearly through his skull. _It is a Midgardian invention…a copy of a message, sent through wires by electricity, across vast spaces. Sometimes the message is delayed…but it almost always arrives eventually. Sometimes "eventually" is too late_.

"And do you remember what I told you of how many _seiðr_ workings resemble each other—such as teleportation and illusions? And that Chitauri _seiðr_ requires blood and pain in order to work?"

"I do. What does that have to do with…" Thor's eyes widened as a thousand whirling, twirling thoughts crashed together inside his head, firming into a single impossible idea. He shook his head. It couldn't be, and yet…and yet Loki had sworn by the Norns themselves that he hadn't killed Coulson. Had claimed all this time that Coulson had known something, been entrusted with something precious, only to fail in the end.

But it could not be. Loki couldn't have…

"Did you…did you…" The thought was so alien to everything Thor had been thinking these past fifteen months that he couldn't even process what his mind was trying to tell him.

But Loki nodded. Never taking his eyes away from Thor, Loki whispered, "The thing that died on the SHIELD flying fortress was not the son of Coul. It was merely a copy, part illusion and part…telegram, I suppose you could call it. A remnant. When I stabbed him, I used the blood and pain from my strike to fuel two very difficult spells. A delayed healing spell, one of Eir's strongest…and a teleportation spell. It was delayed because of the life still left in the copy, and so the spell wasn't completed until the copy expired. A delayed message of help that arrived too late...as I said."

Thor swallowed hard. The words rasped in his throat when he whispered, "And where did you send him?"

"I sent him to rescue Thea."

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_**Author's Note**__: so I gotta tell you guys, I feel really good about my Coulson subplot. See, my beta is kind of ticked that they're bringing Coulson back to life for the SHIELD tv show. She believes it "cheapens" his death. So when she told me, "I know you're not having Coulson die in_ Avengers, _just because it's now stupid canon that he didn't," I was like, "Oh, crap." So when she was reading this chapter, the whole time I was sort of cringing off to one side, waiting for her to be like, "LA, that was the biggest load of crap I've ever read." So when she gets to the end, she turns to me while making this weird squeaking-whistling-growl sound and I'm like, "Oh, I am dead. So dead. Crap." And she says, "That. Was. Absolutely_ brilliant!" _And she waves her arms around, scaring the bejeebus out of me. But at least I know she liked it. And she claims I've ruined the show for her because nothing they do will be that cool._

_So the question is now, do you guys like it? What do you think of this latest chapter? Was the build-up to Coulson's not-death on the Helicarrier done okay? Also, I need to point out, that all Loki said was that he didn't kill Coulson while Coulson was on the Helicarrier. He still maintains that Coulson is dead. Just so we're clear on the details._

_Love you all! Remember, reviews make me squirm with happy-writer joy!_


	21. Discovering the Lies

_**Author's Note**__: and here I come to save the day! And I look fabulous as usual! *sigh* So just a quick head's up, someone (I am not naming names) has decided that my advertising for my original fiction on my profile or in my chapters violates the Terms of Service for this site (it doesn't, I've checked many times, and so has my husband) and has decided to report me to the admin. See the following message for details._

"I figured I should give you a fair warning that I'm about to report your account for breaking a TOS rule. You're using this place to get sales on your original fiction. That's strictly prohibited and may result in the termination of your account."

_Uh, yeah, because Cassandra Clare, the 50-Shades-of-Gray Chick, Alydia Rackham, StarTrekFanWriter, and a crud-ton of other people haven't done that, apparently. *utterly baffled* And I can't respond to this person via PM because they blocked me from PM-ing them, so I can't write them back and inform them that they're wasting their time (and are in danger of being banned themselves, since falsely accusing someone and wasting the admin's time has gotten people banned before)._

_And honestly, unless someone's doing something offensive, who actually reports people for breaking rules? I mean, look at all the grammatically terrorized, un-beta'd fics out there. Nobody reports those people. I'm just wondering because it seems like there are better ways to handle this (like messaging me and saying, "You know, I think this might break the TOS." At which point I can gently correct their error)._

_Anyway, so I'm taking this opportunity to respond here in case they ran into one of my little adverts in here somewhere. I'm doing this on my other fic that I'm updating today, as well as posting a thing on my profile for anyone else who decides to report me._

_In other news, new chapter! Hope you guys enjoy, let me know what you think. And if anyone has any questions about the above statement, message me and we'll talk, okay? Huggles to everyone!_

_- LA_

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**Chapter Twenty**

**Discovering the Lies**

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"I sent him to rescue Thea."

Thor could only stare at his brother for several long moments before rising slowly to his feet. It was impossible for him to tear his gaze from his brother's pale, solemn face. Loki looked back with an unwavering emerald gaze. It cost the crown prince a Herculean effort to finally speak when he came to within an inch of the ensorcelled glass. "I feel like such a fool."

A small smile curved Loki's mouth. "That's all right. Admitting you're an idiot is always the first step to fixing the problem."

"I didn't say I was an idiot."

"You were thinking it," Loki replied.

Thor found himself laughing softly, shaking his head. "You have always been the only one who could call me such and not have it infuriate me. Why is that?"

Loki shrugged. "Because I am always right, Brother. Surely you've realized that by now?"

Another low chuckle. "I've realized that _I_ am not always right, at least. That should please you. You were always trying to drill that into my skull. It seems you've succeeded at last."

"And it only took eleven centuries. Well done, you."

"Shut up," Thor mumbled, smiling. This. This was one of the things he'd missed for so long with his brother—this easy back-and-forth between them. Yet it was so precarious. The Asgardian could feel that. He would have to take care…but everything was so jumbled in his head. Coulson…and his connection to Loki…the true purpose of his brother's strike…all of it left him off-balance and shaken. "So, you used Chitauri _seiðr_ to send Coulson to their world," Thor whispered. Loki nodded. "To rescue Thea and Sophie."

Yet here, Loki shook his head. "No. Just Thea. It should have worked because Sophie wasn't…"

Golden brows furrowed in startled condemnation. "Only Thea? Loki…you would have left your daughter behind? Abandoned your own child as Laufey did you? Brother, how could you—"

Eyes like jade knives, threading with ever-widening tendrils of sinister cobalt, slashed to Thor's face. What little color remained in Loki's face bleached away as incredulous fury twisted his features into a vicious mask. Loki lunged to his feet and in four swift strides had crossed the cell. As if the glass weren't even there, the green-eyed prince snapped out with one fist. Scabbed knuckles smashed into a shield of _seiðr_ and glass. Sparks of soft gold and sky blue exploded on either side of the window. Thor stepped back from the shower of tiny _seiðr_ shards, which sprinkled across the floor before fading, leaving small wisps of smoke and char marks on the stone floor. Thor saw the magic had also left burns on Loki's knuckles, but his brother didn't seem to feel them.

Loki drew his fist back and punched the window again. More magic flew in a shower of aurulent and mazarine sparks. Lines of pale gold and vivid emerald spiderwebbed out from where Loki's fist still pressed hard against the glass. As Thor watched, the verdant magic withered and died, fading away as the gold lines raced to catch and absorb it. Loki leaned into the glass, forehead pressing hard against the window. The air rasped in his throat as he wheezed for breath. Madness blazed blue as the tesseract in his eyes.

"How dare you?" Loki hissed between bared teeth. Blood ran in tiny rivulets down the window from where his seared and split knuckles bled against the glass. "How _dare_ you? After everything, after all this, you still think me a monster! Damn you! I would _never_ abandon my daughter! I am _not_ like Laufey, or Odin! I would not cast my child aside as if she were trash."

"Then why didn't you order Coulson to get Sophie as wel—"

"_I loved Sophie!_" He roared, raising both hands and slamming them into the glass. The _seiðr_ crackled and hissed. Loki ignored it. The green of his eyes had now been eaten away entirely by savage blue. "I loved Sophie more than you have ever loved anyone or anything, Odinson. She was my _daughter_. I didn't abandon her! _I didn't!"_

"All right," Thor said, trying to calm his foster brother. From somewhere far off, he thought he heard a high-pitched whining sound, like the drone of bees. He'd heard it before once. On Midgard. He simply couldn't think where. "All right. I'm sorry. I must have misunderstood—"

But Loki snarled, "Shut up. Don't patronize me, thunderer. Get out."

"Loki—"

"_Get out!_" His brother raged. Pounding the glass, he yelled, "_Get out!_"

The whining drone had gotten louder, humming distractingly in Thor's ears. Loki's eyes were such a brilliant and unearthly blue that it sent a whisper of apprehension twisting and churning in Thor's belly. It was the Chitauri, the prince was sure; the Chitauri were making Loki scream at him this way, fueling his rage and hurt over the Asgardian's words. He'd been wrong to accuse Loki as he had—he'd spoken without thinking because he was so off-balance from his brother's words regarding Coulson—and now those foul creatures were twisting his little brother's emotions, enraging him. Yet how to calm Loki with such magic at work?

Pitching his voice low and soothing, as if he were speaking to a skittish horse or wolf, Thor murmured, "All right, Brother. All right. I am going to go now, as you ask. I shall return tomorrow. We will speak more then. But Loki?" His brother sneered, more a baring of teeth than anything else…but Loki wasn't shouting at him anymore, at least. "I shouldn't have said that about you and Sophie. I'm _sorry_. I spoke without thinking. I know you loved her."

The sound of the child's name seemed to push back the rage pulsing within his brother. Loki blinked, looking more confused than angry now, and shook his head as if to clear it. Thin brows knotted together as he looked around. "What…why do you…no. No. You think me evil. I know you do. Why do you bother attempting to disguise how much I disgust you?"

Thor shook his head. "No, Brother. I know now that you are not evil. You were desperate." And, Thor thought silently, he was mad. Had he been driven to madness even before Thea and Sophie's deaths?

_Thea said she felt a shadow growing in my mind_, Loki had said some months ago, _but she couldn't tell what it was, if it was the effect of our captivity or…_Or what, Thor wondered? Or the Chitauri's influence? What had that influence been responsible for? Loki's rage, his choking fury and fear? The warp of his memories?

Loki stared at him as if he'd never seen the crown prince before; then he turned away and trudged back to his chair. Dropping into it like a sack of stones, the fostered prince stared at the tabletop in silence before dropping his head into his hands.

"What's happening to me?" Loki whispered. Thor couldn't tell if his brother spoke to himself or to the crown prince. "This is worse than it ever was on the Chitauri world. I…I cannot tell what is real and what isn't anymore. What is happening to me?"

Some movement seemed to catch Loki's eye, because he jerked his head up. The helpless confusion faded, to be replaced by a look of such raw agony that Thor almost felt sick. Loki's hands trembled as they pressed palm-down against the surface of the table. The too-thin body leaned forward, yearning toward something Thor couldn't see. Cobalt eyes widened and Loki stretched out one hand, reaching for empty air. He licked his lips. Swallowed hard. The breath escaped him in a sound too much like a sob. In mere seconds, he seemed to have completely forgotten Thor's presence.

When Loki spoke, his brother wanted to weep. Softly, in a voice of impossible tenderness, Loki whispered, "My love. Oh, Thea. My Althea." He stood with the slow, measured grace of someone afraid of startling a wild thing. Hand still outstretched, Loki murmured to the empty room, "I thought you left. I thought…I thought you were dead. You _are_ dead. I…I felt it. Your pain. How…you're not real. You cannot be real…are you real? But you're dead. Or am I dead? Or…or are you alive? You can't be. Can you?" Loki's breathing hitched and his blue eyes widened. What did he hear? Whatever it was made him take a step forward. He rasped, "You're alive. You're _alive_. But I thought you were dead. I tried to follow you. Oh, Thea, I thought you were _dead_."

The raw hope and fear in Loki's voice twined together like sharp thorns to slice at Thor's heart; his brother sounded so desperate. He had said he glimpsed Thea at times, that her image haunted him just as cruelly as the sound of her voice. Thor watched his brother, wondering what he should do. Fetch their father? What if Loki tried to harm himself again while Thor was gone? The prince wasn't certain he could trust his brother's welfare to the guards. If he'd left it to them, his brother would have died after cutting his wrists with that shard of broken glass.

Should he try to get his brother's attention? If Thor shattered whatever hallucination Loki was currently experiencing, he had no idea what the disguised Frost Giant would do, what the interruption would do _to_ him.

"Are you truly real? Or are you a cruel illusion?" Loki whispered, edging around the table toward the focal point of his delusion. He tripped, caught himself on the edge of the table without even noticing his stumble. He never took his eyes away from the mirage his madness—and no doubt the Chitauri—had created. "Please," he breathed. His skin had gone gray as a corpse. Thin lips quivered; Thor realized his little brother was barely holding back tears. "Please, be real. _Please_ be real. _Älskling_, I beg you…"

One step closer. Another. And another. Thor held his breath; he didn't know why. Dread seethed beneath his skin, writhing like icy snakes in his gut as Loki drew closer to the spot his eyes had fixed on. Loki's breathing came in shallow gasps. His hands shook as he reached out and grasped…only empty air.

Loki shook his head. "No," he gasped. Electric blue eyes darted all over the room, frantically searching. "No," he whispered. Long, white fingers tunneled in his black hair, grasping and yanking at fistfuls. Loki paid no attention to the pain. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. "No," he moaned. "No, Thea, please. Come back. Please, come back. Thea, please…no. Please. No…" He shook his head vehemently, gasping for air as his hands slid over his ears. Loki hunched down as if to avoid a blow. "I tried, Thea! I tried to save you both, I did, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I _didn't_ abandon you. I would _never_…Forgive me. Please, come back. Please forgive me. I loved you. You must believe me!"

He collapsed onto his side on the floor, splaying the fingers of one hand against the stone and squeezing his eyes shut. He pressed his other hand against his eyes as if trying to block out a terrible vision. Sucking in a shuddering breath, Loki gasped, "Come back. Please come back, Thea. Please forgive me. Don't leave me." Shifting minutely, Loki hid his face completely behind his arms and lay trembling on the floor, whispering tearfully over and over again, "Come back, Thea. Forgive me. Come back."

Thor stepped back from the window. His eyes burned. His chest had gone viciously tight, so tight he could scarcely breathe while his little brother sank further and further into madness. Loki had been doing _better_; Thor was almost sure of that. He'd gone almost a month where he'd gotten at least a few hours' rest each night, where he'd been able to eat a bit more and put just a little weight back on. In the last week, Loki had stopped chewing his knuckles bloody in his sleep. The mercurial mood-shifts had tapered off the longer he'd talked to Thor about his time with the Chitauri. Yet now…

With a heavy heart, Thor backed away from the cell. Moving to one of the guards, he commanded in a low voice, "Keep watch over Prince Loki. Do _not_ allow him to harm himself, or the king will know of it and you _will_ pay." The guard nodded. If he took issue with being forced to protect the dishonored prince, he kept it to himself. Thor moved off down the corridor, every so often glancing over his shoulder to see if Loki had gotten to his feet yet. Until Thor lost sight of the prison cell, Loki remained prostrate, a dark and trembling shadow against the white stone.

**.**

"Heimdall hasn't told us they're ready for our return, Thor," Víðarr reminded the restless prince as Thor paced the length of the empty banquet hall. "You must be patient."

"Asking Thor to be patient is like asking Sif to wear a dress," Fandral said with a chuckle.

Seeing Sif's cheeks redden a little, Thor shot his other friend a sharp look. "Which has been known to happen on occasion," the prince said coolly. "But patience is _not_ one of my virtues. Asking it of me is like asking you not to admire yourself in every reflective surface you see."

Fandral spread his arms and smiled brightly. "I have to make sure I look well for the ladies, Thor."

Thor scoffed, but he smiled. "Rakehell."

"Yes," his friend agreed with the basic assessment of _devilish ladies' man_, grinning.

It was late—late enough that only a couple of exhausted but willing servant girls attended the two princes, the Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. Sif had told the Three everything Thor had told her once she'd received his permission; Thor wanted his friends to know the truth about Loki. Now they knew…but that didn't mean they believed.

One of the girls brought the Asgardian warriors full flagons of mead. Thor didn't touch his; he wasn't in the mood for it. He noticed the girl lingering beside Fandral. When Thor spared a thought for why the serving maids were so willing, he realized they were likely there to giggle and flirt with the other man. He didn't care; let them flirt. As long as his brother and his friends took the situation seriously.

"What could be taking them so long?" The crown prince growled. It had been a week since Loki's most dramatic episode of madness, a week since Thor had managed to get anything coherent out of Loki, and _four_ weeks—nearly a month—since the two princes had gone to Midgard to speak to the Man of Iron and the mortal scholar called Banner. During the first (and so far only) mission with the Avengers, Tony had managed to "hack" into the information in SHIELD's keeping in a matter of less than twenty-four hours. What was taking so long now?

Volstagg put a hand on Thor's shoulder. Thor shrugged him off. His friend sighed. "Thor, why are you so worried? Give your mortal comrades time."

Thor shook his head. "Loki doesn't _have_ time." He couldn't be certain how he knew this, but he _did_ know it. Day by day, it seemed, his little brother was slipping deeper and deeper into insanity. The Asgardian didn't know why, but something deep within him—instinct, perhaps—told him that Tony and Bruce's findings would hold the key to helping Loki. Perhaps his mind was past complete recall, but somehow Thor knew that if they could only get him _out_ of that _seiðr_-dampening cell, and _out_ of the Realm, his mind might begin to heal a little. And if they could set forth on this quest against Thanos, mayhap his little brother's sanity would mend still further. At least it would give Loki something to think about, to focus on, besides the agony of walking Thea's tomb night after night and being confronted with her corpse, or whatever other horrors the Chitauri were pouring into his skull like poison.

Odin had put more _seiðr_ shields around the tesseract, but it seemed to have no effect on the fostered prince. Perhaps, Thor thought uneasily, he was wrong about the device being the source of the Chitauri's interference. Odin was beginning to doubt that, as well. In fact, Odin was beginning to doubt whether anyone was influencing Loki at all except Loki himself.

"He has time enough. It's not as if he's dying, surely," Fandral said with a smile. His smile faded under Thor's scathing look and Víðarr's scowl. The rakish Asgardian stared at them both. "What's wrong with him?"

"He won't eat," Thor muttered, shoving a hand through his hair and starting to pace again. "He rarely sleeps because of his nightmares. When he _does_ sleep, he comes awake screaming. He grows thinner and weaker by the day. He has always been slight, but…but now he looks more like a wasted corpse than a man. And he won't _talk_ to me!" Thor turned suddenly and kicked the wall hard enough to put a small crack in the stone. "He just _sits_ there, staring at the fire. I have no idea if he even hears me anymore! Whatever is wrong with him is getting _worse!"_

Hogun sighed and scanned his friends with dark, piercing eyes. "I have heard the servants speak of what ails Loki," he murmured. Thor shot him a look. Unperturbed, Hogun added, "They say Loki married the mortal called Althea and got her with child. A daughter named Sophie. That his grief over them is what poisons his mind."

Sif and the other two warriors stared at Thor and Víðarr. "Is that true?" Volstagg demanded. "The woman he continues to draw and the child Loki conjures are his wife and daughter?" After a brief hesitation, Thor nodded. Volstagg shook his head in disbelief. "A wife. Loki with a wife. A child…"

"What proof is there?" Fandral asked. "Just because the servants say it is so, doesn't make it true. If that was all the proof necessary to substantiate rumor, I would have bedded every maiden in the castle by now, as well as several lapdogs."

"You mean you haven't? Your reputation hangs in tatters, my friend," Volstagg said with a smirk. Hogun nudged him in the ankle with the side of his boot, and the large warrior's smile faded.

Fandral ignored his friends and continued, "For instance, we all know there have been rumors for centuries that Loki is…" He trailed off when Thor and Víðarr both pinned him with equally cool stares. "Is…"

"Is _what?_" Víðarr demanded.

The other Asgardian cleared his throat. Carefully avoiding the princes' stares, he said, "There have always been rumors that Loki's affinity for sorcery made him…unnatural." When there was only a cold silence demanding to be filled, he added, "You've heard the rumors, Thor. They say that Loki is…is _ärgr_."

Víðarr growled low in his throat.

Thor lunged to his feet. "How _dare_ you—"

"_I_ didn't say it," Fandral snapped. "I am only repeating what I have heard _other_ people say. Don't act as if you've never heard this." But then he got a good look at his friend's face, and the ire vanished. "You have truly never heard what has been said of Loki? Surely you must have. What other reason would Angbodr have for turning him away when he asked her to wed him?"

"Angbodr? The woman everyone says is descended from Frost Giants?" Víðarr exclaimed. His friends nodded. "He asked her to wed him? When? He never said aught of that to us. Why would he tell you, and not us?"

Volstagg looked startled. "He didn't. Angbodr spoke of it, though the queen silenced her fairly quickly as I recall. It was a handful of centuries ago. Angbodr said she wouldn't have a man who didn't know how to _be_ a man." Volstagg suddenly chuckled. "As I remember, she said Loki would make a better spouse for Sif, since she could play husband and he could play wife."

From the corner of his eye, Thor noticed Sif stiffen. Her eyes gleamed for a moment in the candlelight before she squeezed them shut. When she opened them again, there was no sign or even a hint of the tears he thought he'd glimpsed. But Thor realized the outspoken warrior maiden hadn't said a word during the entirety of this impromptu conference, and she hadn't laughed at the joke.

A memory whispered through his mind, there and gone, of Thor himself laughing over the same jest perhaps two or three centuries ago while he and Sif stowed their weapons after an intense round of sparring. Sif hadn't laughed then, either.

"And besides," Fandral continued, "if _Loki_ is the one who claims such a thing—that he married a mortal and got her with child—it's probably false."

Blue eyes narrowed as Thor studied his friend. "What makes you say so?" He asked in a deceptively mild voice that hid the beginning storm of temper. His anger had no place here; it was only because he was concerned about his brother. Yet for his _friends_ to say such things…

Fandral gave him the sort of look one usually reserved for a particularly dull child. "Loki? The Prince of Mischief? The Lie-Smith with the silver tongue? When has he ever been truthful? I'd wager my last copper that half of what he tells anyone is a bag of farts and lies. Did he perhaps come to care for this Althea? From what Sif says, I have to believe that. But would he marry her? A mortal? Loki?" Fandral shook his head. "No. I don't believe it. What proof is there?"

"Thor's comrades are attempting to bring us what proof there may be," Víðarr reminded the older man. "But I, for one, believe Loki." Fandral's brows shot up. "If for no other reason than the testimonies of the Midgardians I spoke to when I journeyed to that Realm on my own. Lady Althea was not the type of woman to allow a man to have her outside of the confines of the marriage bed. She wasn't married and had no child when she disappeared nearly three years ago. And Loki has never been one to claim a conquest he never made." At this, the Three winced. In long ago centuries, they had done just that; claims about many things, not just women. "That," Víðarr continued, "he has never lied about. If he hadn't bedded the girl, he wouldn't have said he had."

"But she is _mortal_," Fandral protested. "Loki is too arrogant to use a mortal for aught but a moment's pleasure. And that's really all they're good for, anyway—"

"What about that mortal from a few centuries back?" Volstagg asked, nudging his friend. "The one who admired your archery skills. Marian, wasn't it? You seemed rather fond of her. Broke two ribs falling from a horse trying to impress her, as I recall."

The roguish warrior glared. "I _cracked_ two ribs. And I was young then."

Hogun nodded. "Young enough that you screamed like a girl when the horse nearly stepped on your head." The grim countenance cracked the smallest smile when Fandral rolled his eyes.

"One needs to be careful when blessed with a face like this," he replied. "And I did _not_ scream."

Víðarr chuckled. "You're right, of course." Fandral looked vindicated until the prince added, "It was more of a squeak. Like a maiden frightened by a mouse. It shall forever be imprinted on my memory. That was a glorious day."

"Shut up."

"He loved her," Sif interrupted, to everyone's surprise. She sat at the table, chin propped on her fists. Her dark eyes were fixed on a lit candle on the table not six inches from her face. The flame danced and flickered as she breathed. "Loki loved her. You did not hear him. Thor and I did." Sif closed her eyes. Sighed. "I have never heard him sound like that before. Does he truly think we betrayed him?" She added without looking at Thor. "That we've always hated him?"

"We did _not_ betray him," Fandral snapped.

Volstagg spluttered, "Hated him? What? Why would he think such a thing? Until he betrayed you, Thor, we had no quarrel with him. We were his friends."

"We suspected him of treason without any proof beyond the words of King Laufey," Sif murmured. "We believed one of our greatest enemies over one of our dearest comrades."

Fandral scoffed. "He was guilty."

"But we didn't have _proof_ of his guilt. He was our friend." At last Sif tore her eyes away from the flames to look at Thor. Regret shimmered in her gaze, along with quiet misery. "We should have waited for proof before condemning him. That would have been just. Perhaps things would have been different if we had trusted him."

"Trusted him to kill the king?" Volstagg demanded.

Thor straightened. "Loki would never harm our father," he growled. "He wasn't trying to hurt him. Or have you forgotten that it was Loki who lured Laufey into a trap and killed him, saving the king's life and helping to put a stop to the war that _I_ so stupidly instigated?" Surging to his feet, he looked each of his four friends dead in the eye. "Everything Loki did before his fall was to protect Asgard. He went about it wrongly, but then, so did I. Why does no one condemn me for my foolishness? Because I am Thor, and Loki is Loki. He was right, that Asgard spurned him but adored me. Otherwise why have we never been punished in equal measure for the same crimes? You have always been _my_ friends, but you were never truly his…and he knew it. And I was too blind to see how he felt. How all of you felt."

Fandral, obviously bewildered, shook his head. "Thor, until his betrayal, we cared for Loki as a friend and brother-in-arms, just as we did you. He was our friend. We—"

A knock at the door interrupted Fandral's protests. All six Asgardians turned toward the doorway as a warrior in the black and silver uniform of the prison guards entered the room. Bowing to the crown prince, he said, "Your Highness, Prince Loki is asking for you."

Blue eyes snapped wide and Thor took a step forward. "He spoke?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

It was the first words, as far as he knew, that Loki had spoken in more than seven days. Swallowing hard, Thor nodded and started for the door. To his friends he said over his shoulder, "I must go." Without another word, he strode out the door. His friends watched him leave.

**.**

It seemed almost as if Loki hadn't moved since the last time Thor had come to see him. He still slouched in the chair in front of the fire, the crimson flames casting dancing light over his face. He was still pale, his eyes were still sunken. The only change was his hands: raw teeth marks and lacerations marred the long, white fingers beginning from the second row of knuckles. Loki had refused the attentions of any healers. Was he even bothering to tend the wounds he left on his hands in his sleep?

"Loki?" Thor ventured into the oppressive silence that hung so heavy in the dungeon. His brother didn't even twitch. Just stared into the fire with dull, anguished eyes, one finger draped across his lips as if in thought. "Loki. I came, as you asked."

The green-eyed prince sighed. "So you did," he whispered in a voice stripped raw from screaming. "I hadn't thought you would."

Thor's stomach twisted as his heart lurched into his throat. Loki sounded so lifeless. So empty. He would've preferred his little brother rage and scream at him, mock him, even jibe him about polishing his feathers…instead of sitting there with hardly any spark of life. "Of course I would come if you called. You are my brother."

But Loki shook his head—slowly, as if the movement hurt. "I called for you for so long…but you never came."

He swallowed back instant denial. "When, Brother?"

"When they put me in the dark," he whispered. "Before _she_ came. I screamed for you when they ripped me to pieces and put me back together again. Screamed for you and Father and our brothers to help me. To please help me. And you never came. You forgot about me."

Thor shook his head. "No, Loki. _No_. We thought you were dead. We didn't know. We would have come for you if we had known; I swear it to you, Brother."

Loki didn't seem to hear him. "The darkness has teeth to rend men's hearts and claws to tear out men's souls. There is always darkness. Even when there is light. _She_ told me. _She_ warned me about the shadow. It grows in my mind, Thor, even now. It feeds on me now that she's gone. Now that they are gone. I can feel it." He tapped a finger against his temple. "Here. Slimy black tentacles twisting me up, unraveling my very self. There isn't much time before I am lost to it. I can't tell what's real anymore. Are you real? Is any of this real?"

Instinct warred with intellect for approximately half a minute before Thor turned to the guard. "Open the prince's prison."

"Your Highness—"

"Now." Thor's voice held the sharp, cold air of regal command his father had taught him long ago. It had always worked before, and it worked now. One of the guards hastened to obey while the second moved off down the hall. Thor knew he was going to report this to the king. Let Odin find out. It didn't matter. Every instinct in Thor told him that if he was going to help Loki, this was how it would have to be.

The door opened, the guard on high alert as Thor dragged his chair into his brother's cell. Closing, locking, and bespelling the door behind him, the crown prince hauled the chair to the hearth and sank into it. Leaning forward, he reached out and carefully took Loki's hand.

That grabbed his brother's attention. Loki closed his eyes and frowned, deep grooves forming between the thin, dark brows. When he opened his eyes, some of the haze seemed to have faded from the vivid blue gaze. Blue, Thor noted. Not green. How long since Loki's eyes had been green? Thor didn't recall seeing even a hint of emerald in the last week. Had the Chitauri been feeding off of his grief all this time? Loki shifted and tilted his head ever so slightly. Dark strands of dirty, raggedly-chopped black hair fell across his forehead and eyes. Pale lips parted. Loki seemed to grope for the proper words for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Why are you…in here?" The question sounded dazed, exhausted. Loki shook his head slowly. "You shouldn't be in here. Father will…Odin will be angry. What are you doing in here? Are you…are you even real?"

"Yes," Thor murmured, gently squeezing his little brother's hand. Loki's skin was warm to the touch. Feverish. Were his wounds infected? Or was he ill? He _looked_ ill. His eyes glistened feverishly. "I am real, Brother."

Loki blinked. The act seemed to take monumental effort. "You can't be real. The guards wouldn't have fetched you."

"Why not?"

"Because _I_ asked them to," he murmured. "They never do what I ask. No one does what I ask. They won't. They want…they want me to…" He frowned, eyes drifting restlessly around the room. "Want me to…despair. That's what they want."

"No, Loki. No one wants you to suffer."

His brother's head lolled to one side and he stared listlessly into the flickering flames. Loki's mouth, Thor saw, was also shredded. He'd been chewing his bottom lip incessantly. When Thor glanced over for a split-second at the table, he saw scattered drawings and half-finished letters sprinkled with spots of dried blood. He turned back to Loki.

"I will never be what they want," he whispered. Thor frowned. The fostered prince sighed, a shuddering death-rattle sound. "I cannot be the mighty Thor, with all his strength and charm and golden good looks. They want me to remain a shadow. But they hate the shadows." Loki licked his lips and tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. "I am nothing but a shade. They want to forget me. They want me to disappear. What will they do with my corpse, do you think, Thor?" He glanced at the Asgardian. "Feed it to the pigs, do you think? Or throw it into the cold wastes of Jötunheim so that when I lie there rotting, they needn't deal with the stench of their treacherous foundling?"

The words should have been said with bitterness and hate, but they were empty of any emotion. It was almost as if Loki were commenting on the weather. As if what he spoke of had no meaning to him. But it had meaning to Thor. The thought of Loki imagining his own corpse lying moldering in the snow of Jötunheim, scraped bloody by the cutting wind, had bile rising in the prince's throat.

"Why do you say such things?" Thor demanded, gripping his brother's hand. "We are glad you're here, home again. We love you, Loki. How could you think we don't?"

"Then why did you throw me away?" Loki whispered, and suddenly Thor couldn't breathe. Loki's eyes slid to Thor's face and he asked, "I begged you for help and you threw me off the Bifröst into an abyss. Why?"

Thor shook his head. "No, Loki. I didn't. I would _never_ hurt you. You're my brother. I begged you to hold on, but you let go of Father's staff. I didn't drop you, Brother. I swear to you. You let go."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and pulled out of Thor's grasp. "Liar. You dropped me—"

"You let go!" Thor cried. He grabbed Loki's shoulders, squeezed. "I _begged_ you to hold on! I saw in your eyes what you were thinking. I saw your despair. And because of Father, because of Sif and the Three, because of Laufey and your so-called heritage, you left _me!_ Me, your brother! Even when I was pleading with you not to let go, not to leave me, you let go of Gungnir and fell. I did _not_ drop you!" Eyes stinging, Thor shook his head again. "I didn't," he whispered, voice breaking.

The breath Loki drew sounded almost like a sob. "That is what Thea said. She said…said in my despair, that I…but I remember what you did. I looked in your eyes. I saw your decision to discard me. You and Odin…I would never be good enough, never be what you wanted, and you decided…you…I _saw_ it—"

"Has Thea ever lied to you?" Thor asked. Loki's mouth snapped shut with an audible _click_ of teeth. He stared at Thor with wide eyes. "Answer me, Brother. Did Thea ever lie to you?"

After a brief eternity, the foundling prince shook his head.

Thor swallowed. He had to play this carefully. His brother hovered on the edge of a mental abyss. One wrong word, the slightest push, and he would tumble from the precipice and plunge irrevocably into this slowly creeping insanity. There would be no helping him. "If she never lied to you, then why do you not believe her? What did she say? When you told her I had tried to kill you, what did she say?"

Helpless confusion crossed Loki's face. "I…she said…she said the memory was…shadowed. Frayed. She said there was something strange about my thoughts. That she…that she could sense a strangeness…"

**.**

_Loki sensed Thea the moment she entered the main room of their suite. He wiped at his eyes and glanced at her, forcing a smile. She looked so lovely in her mist-gray robe, her hair hanging in damp tendrils down her back. She took the opportunity to soak in the tub nearly every day; being able to bathe whenever they wished was still such a luxury, even after nearly five months in this new, sumptuous prison. The only thing that marred her beauty was the angry, red scar down her cheek._

_For some reason, despite multiple infusions of healing_ seiðr, _the cuts inflicted by the Chitauri in their final torture session had taken the last four months to heal. Only constantly draining Loki's magic to use for healing spells had kept the cuts from festering. Thea had taken a fever six times despite Loki's best efforts. Now the cuts had finally healed, but the scars were vivid scarlet against Thea's pale skin._

_Now his wife stopped in the doorway between bedroom and bathing room and just stared at him for several long seconds. Under her scrutiny, Loki's attempt at a smile faded. It was too much effort to force for long. Not when, for some reason, the grief of memory had suddenly surged up and tried to drown him all over again._

_"Okay," Thea said after he just looked at her with mute misery in his eyes. "So, you have a choice."_

_"A choice?" Loki echoed._

_She nodded. "A choice as to how I kill the Duke of Spook out there. I was thinking about tying him up with electrical cords and electrocuting him with jumper cables, but we don't have any metal chairs. We could drown him in the bathtub. Stab him with the sharp, poky parts on the Glowy Stick of Death over there." She gestured to where the Chitauri staff lay propped against the wall in the corner of the room. "Or_—_and this one's my favorite_—_we could tie him down and force-feed him Gummi Bears until he pops like a balloon. A nasty, slimy, amphibious balloon. Is he an amphibian? I can't tell. He kinda looks like a really warty toad. If he's a toad, we can just pop him on a stick and roast him over a bonfire. Like s'mores, except…incredibly toxic. Ew. I think I'm gonna barf. So, which one do you like best?"_

_A few chuckles managed to escape him. He shook his head, smiling a bit ruefully. "I thought violence was on the list of things not to do in front of our daughter."_

_"You mean the daughter who plays some mad bongos on my internal organs?" Thea walked toward him; laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She beats the stuffing out of me on a daily basis. If I chloroform the guy and then make him into a pincushion, I don't think it'll faze her much. Although he'd be an_ ugly _pincushion. I would not want_ that _in my sewing room. Not that I can sew. Like, at all. Never got the hang of thimbles, and I object to losing pints of blood because my needles have minds of their own. And are evil."_

_Loki covered her hand with his. Sighed. "How do you do it?"_

_"Do what?"_

_"You stay so bright, so_…you. _You're like a star, always shining, always so vivid and beautiful. How do you keep shining in this darkness, Thea? How are you so brave?"_

_She shrugged. "I have you. It's easy to be brave when you're here. Well, okay, it's not easy. But it's easier. Besides, you're distracting. You help me not to think about how scary everything is. And you're so hot." Loki raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault I'm easily distracted these days. It's a pregnancy thing. My sex-drive is like, in super-overdrive. And you've got dimples. And smexy, smexy Martian eyes. And a face."_

_A real laugh escaped him. "Oh, I have a face." Thea nodded cheerfully. "You like my face?"_

_"Oh, tech-yes. It's drool-worthy. I could kiss it all day." She grinned when he just eyed her. "Loki. Babe. That was an invitation." Loki smiled wanly and touched the tips of his fingers to her cheek. Thea's smile slipped. "And for once you're not in the mood. I don't think this has ever happened before. Usually jungle-monkey tango makes you really happy, even when things are sucking more than usual. What's wrong?"_

_He shook his head. "I was…thinking. The Other still expects me to try and escape, and my magic is only just now restoring itself after your last illness, so we cannot leave yet. I'm sorry."_

_Thea made a derisive sound. "Meh. I don't care." He just looked at her. "Okay, yeah, I care. I feel like Rapunzel. Which is ironic, since my last name is another word for rapunzel. The plant, I mean, not the princess. Huh. Weird. Anyway, yeah, princess-in-the-tower isn't really my thing, but I don't want you to feel pressured. We've got time. A few months, anyway. I mean, I'll be out of commission once a certain cutie pie decides to make her grand debut, but that's not for another three months or so. We can get out by then." He merely heaved a sigh and turned away to stare at the wall. Thea's hand came up, cupping his jaw, and gently turned his face back to her. "Loki?"_

_"I was thinking about our escape to Midgard. Wishing I could take you to Asgard. It's beautiful, Thea. You deserve to be able to go there in safety and see it. But I cannot take you there. I wish I could."_

_Her smile was gentle and coaxing, trying to ease him out of his sorrow. "Maybe one day, you can. And besides, I've already seen it. It's great frolicking around in your memories. I get to see all kinds of great stuff. I mean, we jump off the Asgardian cliffs almost every day. It's also the only time I'm not carrying Sophie around, and it's nice to be skinny again. Not that I don't love you," she added, patting her belly. "Daddy and I love you to confetti bits."_

_"I can never take you to Asgard," Loki whispered. "Either of you. It isn't safe."_

_She frowned. "What do you mean, not safe? Because of the Chitauri?"_

_"Because of Thor."_

_"Loki…I'd bet an entire box of apple-jelly cinnamon donuts that Thor misses you just as much as you miss him—which is saying something, because I'd do a jalapeno tap-dance while singing 'Yankee Doodle' to get my hands on a box of those. So you know I'm sure of it. He'll be so happy that you're alive, that you're safe and happy with me and Sophie, he'll forgive you about all the junk with the Frost Giants. He loves you."_

_Loki stared at her, unable to speak. Finally, though he didn't know where he dredged up the strength, he managed to snarl, "Loves me? He_ loves _me? He tried to kill me."_

_Thea's mouth fell open. "What? When? You never told me that. When did that happen?"_

_He shook his head, baffled. "I showed you. On the Bifröst, I begged him to help me and he reached down for me, but when I took his hand, he sneered at me. At_ me. _His_ brother. _And then he threw me from the edge into the abyss."_

_To his surprise, Thea stepped back from him. Her brows drew together as she tilted her head, frowning. Her gaze darted all over his face before locking onto his emerald eyes. "What are you talking about?" She asked softly, cautiously. "That's not what happened."_

_"What do you mean?" He rose to his feet, watching her, studying her in turn. Was she ill again? The wounds that had grown infected had healed in the last few weeks. Any chance for festering and fever should have disappeared…yet she wasn't making sense. "Thea, are you all right?"_

"I _am fine. I'm wondering about_ you. _Loki, you fell from the Bifröst because you let go of your father's staff. I read that memory. I remember it. You were so…you were suicidal. You wanted to die. I remember. It was one of the saddest, most horrible things I've ever felt."_

_"What? No," he protested. "No, Thea. He tried to kill me. He cast me off. He let me fall—"_

_"Loki, no, he didn't. That's not what happened. Come here." She reached for him, pulled him to her. Light as butterfly wings, she touched his temples. Thea peered into his eyes. "Let me look. There's something wrong. One of us isn't remembering correctly, and it shouldn't be me. My powers shield my memories. People can't screw with them. Let me look again."_

_He shook his head. "There is nothing wrong with my memory. I recall_ vividly _how he smiled at me, as if everything would be all right. As if all was forgiven. Then he sneered. And Odin scoffed, scorned me. Both my fathers tried to kill me. Laufey left me to die of the cold, and Odin allowed his heir to hurl me to my death."_

_Thea didn't look away from him. In a gentle voice that held the whipcrack of a command, she said, "Let me look. If there's nothing wrong, then at least we'll know there's a problem with_ me. _Let me look."_

_With a sigh that was half a snarl, he nodded. "Go ahead. You'll see."_

_Silvery-blue eyes slowly unfocused as a tingling warmth spilled down the back of Loki's neck. Thea's eyes drifted lazily over his face, unseeing, as she immersed herself in his memory. But then she frowned. Something flickered in her gaze. Her eyes began to focus a little. Loki felt a tremor shiver through her smaller frame as she drew a sharp breath. Her eyes narrowed. Leaning in a little, she closed her eyes. Frowned fiercely._

_Concerned despite himself, Loki murmured, "Thea?"_

_"Fraying," she whispered tonelessly. Whenever she interacted with the real world while submersed in memory, her voice held a clinical detachment that always unnerved him. "Shadowed. Threads unraveled. Knots undone. Pulling, tangled. Spots of weakness. Uneven weft. This…this isn't real."_

_Loki jolted. "What?"_

_All of a sudden there was a small flare of cerulean light from the Chitauri staff in its corner. Thea yelped and yanked her hands back from his skull, cradling them to her chest. "Ow! Jerks!" Flicking her hands as if she'd burned them on something, she shook her head, grimacing. "I noticed it, ya little rabid jumper-cable, so you can just kiss my sugar-coated grits and call me 'Sally,'" Thea growled at the staff. "Screw you very much. Go drown yourself in a bucket."_

_He grasped her hands and turned them over. His eyes widened when he saw the reddened fingertips. The flesh was irritated, as if she'd touched something hot. Loki kissed Thea's fingertips, breathing a soft whisper of Jötunn cold against the scalded digits. It wasn't_ seiðr, _so it cost him nothing, and it seemed to help. Thea sighed and dropped her forehead against his shoulder._

_"What were you saying before?" Loki murmured, brushing his lips against her temple. "You said, 'This isn't real.' What did you mean?"_

_"The memory isn't real," she replied in a mere breath of sound. Behind them, in its corner, the staff hummed with power. Prickles of unease skittered up and down Loki's spine. His wife continued, "Someone wove it together and stuffed it into your head. It isn't real. The pain from it is real, because that's_ your _reaction to remembering something like that. But the actual events never happened. There's…there's a shadow in your mind. I don't know…I don't know what that's from. If it's related to this memory thing or you're just super-stressed or what. I have no clue. But some of your memories are frayed. Something's putting pressure on your memories." Thea drew a deep breath and sighed. "I can't fix it, either, and it might get worse."_

_After a moment, Loki nodded. "All right. We will think of something." Shutting his eyes, he laid his cheek against her damp hair and inhaled the scent of clean water and soap. Just under that was a hint of Thea's lotion. She was nearly out of it now, but she needed to keep using it as her belly grew bigger from the child. It was sweet althea blossoms and orchids; that scent always soothed him. It seemed to cut through the fury and hatred always seething within him, bringing him back to himself…and to her._

_So…Thor hadn't tried to kill him. His brother hadn't betrayed him. Instead, Loki had tried to end his own life by falling into the abyss, hoping it would destroy him, and instead he'd landed in crush of broken bones and a spatter of blood on the Chitauri home-world. Was his brother perhaps searching for him even now? Was his father? Or had they given him up for dead after more than a year in captivity to the darkness?_

_"Can this…whatever it is…affect my memories of you?"_

_Thea immediately shook her head. "Ever since you first waltzed through my mental Disneyland, you've been up here with me, and I've been with you in here." She caressed his temple, down his cheek, along his jaw. "In your head. What we have…it's encoded in our brains. Hardwired into our memories now. Because of my power. Shielded with the same power that shields me. So we should be okay."_

_"I could not bear to lose you, Althea. It would drive me mad."_

_She bounced up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his in a chaste kiss. "We're both nuts already, or we wouldn't have fallen in love with each other. You're an alien and I'm…well, splendiferously crazy. And I'm not going anywhere. Ever. It'll take more than the beehive from ET-Hell to get rid of me."_

_And once again, she'd made him laugh. "ET-Hell?"_

_"Yeah, ET-Hell. Alien hell. You know, 'ET phone home?'" Casting a scathing look at the still-buzzing staff, she added, "ET phone homoerotic, scabies-eating stag beetles who swim in toxic sludge and deserve to get mauled by vampire-ferrets with Mad Cow Disease." Thea glanced down at her belly and smiled, patting the gentle swell. "Oh, you like that one, huh? Vampire-ferrets; remember that one for when you start school, Sophie-girl." She grinned at Loki. "Frosty McCute-Stuff in here is happily doing back-flips. Anyway, have I never shown you_ E.T.?"

_Loki shook his head._

_"Hear that, Sophie? Time to further educate Daddy." Thea suddenly frowned, cocking her head to one side, before sighing. "Really, Pop-Tart?" She sighed again. "I don't think they have peanut butter in this place. I know, they suck. Let's see…wait. Hey, peanut butter. That is so weird. Where do they_ get _this stuff? And now I just need a spoon. Hey, look, spoon!"_

**.**

Loki stared unblinking into the fire for several long moments after he finished speaking, expression unreadable. Thor didn't push him. If Loki reacted violently, there was no _seiðr_ shield to protect the crown prince now. Where was his father? Surely the guard had reported what the prince had done by now and surely the All-Father would have come immediately. So why wasn't he here?

"I miss her," Loki said abruptly, shattering his brother's thoughts. He immediately focused on the fostered prince. "Do you know what it's like, to live in someone else's mind for almost a year? To share each other's thoughts, to twine your very self around another person until you almost don't know where one ends and the other begins? Like Jormungand, the World Serpent, twisting around and around until it finds itself devouring its own tail…but it is beautiful to be so entwined. To curve your soul around the soul of someone you love until you can no longer live without them. It is terrifying to love like that. It can break you. It can gut you. Yet it is like flying…it's such a long way to the ground if something crushes your wings, but all the while, you are that much closer to the clouds and the stars."

Dark lashes drifted down and Loki leaned back in his chair. Thor said nothing, afraid to disturb him now that some semblance of calm had found him. He did keep hold of his brother's hand, however. It felt unusually small in his grip. It reminded him of Loki as a small child when he would slip his hand into Thor's whenever something upset him.

"Do you hate me, Brother?" Loki murmured.

Thor shook his head. "Despite your myriad sins, in spite of all the wretchedness that has been wrought between us, I cannot imagine my life without you, little brother."

Loki sighed. "It feels so empty in my skull, Thor. As if a part of my very self has been stolen away. I wonder if her power was addictive. Perhaps that is why I'm this way now. Or perhaps I loved her too much. Am I pathetic?"

"No. You grieve."

"Grief. Grief is a poison. A cancer with no cure."

"Time," Thor began, but Loki shook his head wearily.

"No amount of time will heal this. It is not the way of Asgardians and you know it." Loki's laugh was saturated with bitterness. "It seems it is the same for Frost Giants. Does it disgust you, that I am Jötunn?"

Thor shook his head again. "You're my brother, and I have learned that the Frost Giants are not the barbarians I once believed them to be."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "Do you remember you used to tell Mother that there were Frost Giants under your bed? It would terrify you. Or that they were in your closet, waiting for you to fall asleep so they could rush off with you and toss you into their cook-pots? A princely meal, indeed."

"You were afraid of snakes," Thor pointed out. His brother canted his head in acknowledgement. "And the dark."

Loki shut his eyes and seemed to brace himself before replying, "I have never lost that fear."

"At least you're not afraid of spiders."

Loki actually grinned, though it seemed tired. "Does Tyr still break out into a cold sweat when he sees the things?"

"He does, indeed." Thor looked around as if making sure they were alone…and spotted Odin watching from the shadows, positioned just so that Loki couldn't see him, but Thor could. The king nodded to him. The prince focused on his brother once more. Leaning forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratory whisper, he added, "Found one in his room just yesterday. Screamed like a maiden who'd seen a rat. He hopped around quite a bit and swore at it while he tried to squash it. Set the palace dogs howling."

One dark brow quirked. "Really?" Thor nodded earnestly, and Loki laughed. "Oh, that would have been something to see." Suddenly Loki frowned and leaned forward a little, peering toward the window of his cell. Thor followed his gaze, hoping his brother hadn't spotted the king.

But it was Víðarr who'd attracted Loki's attention. The younger prince strode quickly toward the cell, pausing only when he realized that _both_ of his elder brothers were inside the prison. He frowned, baffled.

"Loki and I are having a conversation," Thor said smoothly. "What is it?"

"It's your comrades on Midgard," Víðarr replied after a brief hesitation. "Heimdall has just come to me. They have their results from the quest you sent them on, and they're waiting for us at the tower stronghold of the one called Iron Man."

Before Thor could react to Víðarr's words, Loki was on his feet. He stared at his younger brother with wide eyes of vibrant jade, holding completely still—almost as if he were afraid to move. An expression somewhere between fear and hope twisted his features. "What did they find?" He asked in a mere whisper.

Víðarr leveled his gaze on his brother and replied, "What we have suspected all along—that the mortal called Fury lied to us."

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_**Author's Note**__: dun-dun-DUN! So…what do you guys think Nick lied about, hmmm? Let me know in your reviews. More huggles for you guys! I love you all!_


	22. A Reference to Skyfall

_**Author's Note**__: and here I come with the thing that will make all of you go "WHAT!?" I hope, anyway. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We get more Tony! Yay! Huggles for everyone! Remember, reviews equal pants, and pants equal love. Sorry, I'm channeling Ann Brashares because I'm rereading Sisterhood Everlasting, which is so sad, but so awesome at the same time._

_And OMG! We're at 100 reviews! AWESOME!_

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**Chapter Twenty-One**

**A Reference to Skyfall**

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Using his _seiðr_, Odin had kept out of Loki's sight until he, Thor, and Víðarr had left the dungeons. Now all three men hastened toward the royal wing of the palace. Thor and his younger brother would don their armor and grab their choice weapons before leaving for Midgard. While the crown prince strode through the palace corridors, however, his father had words for him.

"It was reckless," Odin said sharply as he kept pace with his second-eldest. "Loki could have escaped—"

"Father, you saw him, he was in no condition to even contemplate escaping his prison, much less actually achieving it." At the door to his chambers Thor stopped and turned to his father. "You didn't see him before I entered the cell. He couldn't even tell if I were real or a hallucination. He _needed_ me there with him. He's slipping, Father."

Gnarled white brows knotted together as the king stared at his son and heir. The single blue eye, usually so bright, dimmed as a shadow of worry passed over Odin's face. "Slipping? What do you mean?"

"The madness is taking him. The Chitauri are driving him closer and closer to insanity. He sees and hears things that aren't there, remembers things that never happened. He believes we tried to kill him."

Odin jolted. "_What?_"

Thor nodded sharply. The words twisted and writhed like poisonous snakes in his belly, but somehow he managed to say, "He believes we threw him off the Bifröst that day."

"He let go," Odin whispered. "_He let go_."

The prince sighed. "You know that and I know that, and apparently Thea knew it, but Loki told me she claimed the Chitauri were manipulating his memories somehow. It's strange…when she told him, he accepted her words as truth, yet now…it's almost as if, when I remind him of what she said, he doesn't even hear me. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I couldn't connect with him without stepping into that cell, and I _must_ make that connection. He _must_ hear me, he must _trust_ me. Or I fear one day I will go to visit him and find only a bloody corpse."

His father shook his head. "I never thought…I never knew…Thor, you have always been closer to him than anyone. Why does he think your friends have always despised him? From your accounts, Loki believes himself shunned by all who love him, even before your exile. Why?"

He shook his head almost helplessly. "I don't know. Sif and the Three claim they have always loved him as much as they love me. Until my exile I thought we were all dear friends. When I ask Loki about it, it angers him. He claims I never listen, never see. I can't risk angering him right now. There is too much at stake. Now I must ready to leave, Father. All Heimdall could discern was that Tony and Banner have learned of Fury's lies, but not what those lies _are_. We must go _now_."

"You sense something," Odin said. Thor nodded. "What is it?"

After a moment of groping for the right words, Thor ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "A shadow. Many shadows: one inside the palace, pulsing beneath our feet like the egg-sac of a spider readying to hatch; one looming on the horizon, waiting to pounce like a hungry wolf; and the last, the one I fear most, gathering strength in Loki's mind. They are _all_ drawing closer and closer, growing in power. We must help Loki first, banish his shadow, or we will fail in defeating the others. That is what I sense. That is what my instincts tell me."

Odin drew a sharp breath, then let it out in a soft sigh. He nodded. "I trust your instincts, my son. They have often served you well in battle. Go to Midgard. While you and Víðarr are there, _we_ will prepare here." He hesitated, then added, "Heimdall told you of the threat of the svartálfar in the Dark Realm?"

Thor nodded. "Is it certain they will attack Asgard?" The look on his father's face spoke volumes. Thor muttered something deprecating under his breath. "Will they attack soon?"

"We do not know. If they do, we will send Amora to fetch you back to Asgard."

"Amora the Enchantress?" Thor demanded. Ugh, he hated that woman. She had played Loki for a fool many centuries ago, using the younger prince to get close to the heir to the throne. Thor hadn't known that until his brother had told him of it in the last year, but since then, he'd avoided the gifted Asgardian sorceress who had once been Loki's friend.

Odin nodded. "I know you dislike her, but she is the surest, swiftest way of returning you to Asgard if you're needed other than Víðarr himself or Loki, and Loki is in no condition to transport himself or anyone else anywhere. Now go. Your need is pressing."

The crown prince nodded to his father. "Thank you…for allowing any of this. I shall return as soon as I can."

**.**

"Are you ever going to _not_ do that?" Víðarr asked less than an hour later as Thor hunched on Midgardian grass, retching his guts out. When he managed to stop, he just looked at his younger brother for a moment as he wiped his mouth. Víðarr handed him something wrapped in a small, white cloth. "Mother made this for you. Drink it; it will calm your belly."

"It" happened to be a tiny vial full of some pale green liquid that glimmered faintly with emerald sparkles. When Thor pulled the stopper, the sharp sting of mint hit his nostrils. It helped clear his head a bit and ease the knotting of his stomach.

He downed the contents of the vial in one swallow. Within minutes, his stomach ceased its relentless churning. When Víðarr asked if he felt better, Thor nodded and got to his feet, looking around. He recognized the little mortal wilderness known as Central Park. Without a word the brothers set off toward Stark Tower.

New York City wasn't as silent as Asgard would have been so early in the morning, but it _was_ much quieter than it had been when the two princes had visited before. It was also warmer; there was hardly any snow on the ground, though thin sheets of ice covered the standing puddles of water on the sidewalks. Steam rose from the grates in the streets. The trees of Central Park, for the most part, had shed their leaves and now stood barren of snow or fresh growth, ugly and black silhouettes in the dim night. There was no helpful mortal child to offer advice, but Thor and Víðarr managed to traverse the Midgardian streets without mishap.

At the main doors of Stark Tower, Thor knocked—carefully—on the glass to alert any guards who might let them in. He doubted the Man of Iron would take kindly to the Asgardian smashing in the door.

But instead of a guard, Thor heard the disembodied voice of the one known as JARVIS.

"Welcome back, Mr. Odinson. I see you have brought your brother. Mr. Stark is expecting you." A red light near the handle of the door blinked three times before turning green. There was a small _beep_. Then with a soft _hiss_, the door swung open of its own accord. "Right this way, sir."

"That is…unnerving," Víðarr muttered as the two brothers entered the tower and headed for the elevator they had taken during their previous visit. "What _is_ that thing?"

"Midgardians call it…a 'computer.' A very advanced device called a 'machine,' that can think for itself." They stepped into the elevator when the doors whooshed open. The heavy metal doors slid shut once they were inside, the elevator lurched, and they zipped toward the top floor. "JARVIS serves as valet to the Man of Iron."

"I see. And that works for him? A creature with no corporeal form as his body-servant?"

Thor shrugged. "It seems to."

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open to reveal Tony glaring savagely at a small, crimson-and-gold, rectangular object that just barely fit in the palm of his hand. Banner stood behind him, gripping the side-piece of his spectacles with his right hand as he peered at whatever Tony scowled at. Pepper Potts sat in a chair near them, legs crossed at the knee, with a black metallic object on a wooden lap-desk perched on her knees. She looked up as Thor and Víðarr stepped out of the elevator and smiled at them.

"Tony, your friends are here," she said, beaming. Somewhat to Thor's surprise, she seemed genuinely pleased to see the two princes. Perhaps because their presence pleased the Man of Iron?

But that was a thought for another time. Without breaking stride, Thor and Víðarr went to Tony and Bruce. Tony growled something succinct and obscene at the device in his hand before looking up and meeting Thor's eyes. What the Asgardian warrior saw in the mortal's dark gaze told him all he needed to know even before Tony spoke.

"You were right," he said. Anger hummed like a swarm of hornets under the three simple words. Furrowing his fingers through his hair, he shot a vicious look at the little device before adding, "Fury lied to us."

Banner sighed. "You don't know that. He _kept_ stuff from us—"

"Which is basically the same thing," Tony growled. "Considering that he made me sound like a brat and really did a number on Cap after Coulson died, this?" He tapped the screen. "This here? It irks me. It's irksome."

Thor frowned. "What is it, my friend? What have you found?"

Now it was Tony's turn to sigh. "To sum up, because I know you don't know much about Earth culture—speaking of culture, remind me to drag you off to see _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ sometime—I looked at SHIELD. Everything I could get my hands. Sorry it took so long, by the way. The _reason_ it took almost a month is because every time I thought I got through their firewalls, another wall popped up. Which wouldn't have been a problem normally, but unlike every other time I've hacked into them, the walls kept popping up. They never stopped until about a week and half ago. It was like, in the two milliseconds JARVIS had after breaking through one firewall, ten more appeared. It wasn't impossible to do, it was just tedious as crap. And I couldn't find the software for the firewall-system to insert a virus into it, either, to stop it from making little baby firewalls, so the thing was breeding like a pair of rabbits on Ecstasy."

When Thor opened his mouth to ask for clarification, Tony waved a hand. "Never mind. Not important. Point is, it took me _that long_ to get through the protections they had around their database. But the firewalls were only around certain files. There were a butt-load of them, but it wasn't everything. Which makes me wonder what's so freaking important.

"Then the stupid encryption took longer than I expected, because the same thing kept happening—every time I thought I had it, the code the files were written in suddenly changed and the entire file would basically rewrite itself so it couldn't be read, which should have been impossible, but apparently isn't. At first I thought SHIELD was onto me, but it was something else. You'll never guess what. Or should I say, who?"

Víðarr and Thor glanced at each other, then shook their heads and gestured for Tony just to tell them. He had the same penchant for guessing games and explaining things as Loki, Thor thought. Only Tony's favorite subject was his work with Midgardian computers and machines, whereas Loki's deepest passion lay in sorcery.

"A week before you two showed up on my doorstep," the Midgardian warrior continued, "I decided to be a nice guy and let Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters send some of their kids who were interested in computers over here, let 'em look around, see all my fancy-schmancy stuff. One of them was this girl, maybe sixteen. Nice kid, snazzy dresser, good taste in music except she likes Taylor Swift. All that twangy 'my boyfriend left me so I'm gonna write about him to humiliate him to death' was never my thing. Anyway, she's a mutant. I wasn't surprised. Almost every kid at the Institute's got some kind of weird power."

"Yeah," Banner said, smiling a little. "But guess what hers is?"

Thor's eyes widened. "Computers?"

Banner nodded. "It's not _unheard_ of, but it's still uncommon for a mutant to have some kind of talent for machines that may or may not be a superpower. I can list all the ones in the United States Mutant Registry off the top of my head. Dr. Henry Pym, some kid named Forge, Gwen Royal—she's in jail—and a girl on loan to SHIELD, code-name Sage. And apparently this girl."

"Guess what her name is?" Tony said, looking equal parts frustrated, impressed, and triumphant. Thor shrugged. "Cleo Valerian." Beside Thor, Víðarr stiffened. The crown prince tensed as well. That couldn't be simple chance. Thea's sister being responsible, somehow, for Tony's inability to infiltrate the SHIELD systems with his usual ease? It was _not_ coincidence. Tony added, "So while I was trying to hack SHIELD, I decided to hack the Pentagon, too. Access their Mutant Registration files. You need security clearance to access those."

From her chair, Pepper heaved a sigh. "You owe Rhodie an apology."

"Oh, c'mon. It's not like I got caught. Besides, if he didn't stay mad about me kicking the crap out of him at my birthday party, he's not gonna stay mad about this, either. It was for a good cause. And he promised not to tell Washington what I was up to regarding the Master of the Glow-Stick of Destiny and his possibly-imaginary wife, so he's not _that_ mad."

Pepper merely raised her eyebrows.

"I'll call him in the morning," Tony mumbled. "You're throwing off my groove with the guilt. Stop that. Keep looking for that address. Please. Anyway, I checked out the Mutant Registration. Sure enough, Cleo Valerian is what's called a 'technopath.' She can literally hack computers using just her brain. I might want to hire the kid when she graduates. Apparently if she gets into a system once, she's in. You have to completely reprogram the software and get all new firewalls to keep her out. They made a note that her concentration's shoddy, though. Probably why she doesn't work for the FBI or something. I'll get her some Aterol, we'll fix that right up.

"While I was in there, I decided to look up the rest of her family. Three older brothers and two older sisters, one younger brother, like you said. Eldest, Austin Valerian, also a mutant. Next eldest, Theodore, a mutant. Eldest sister, Althea Sigyn Valeria, deceased, also a mutant. Interesting thing, though—there was a flag-notice next to her name. It led me to a file JARVIS says will take literally weeks to decrypt because it's doing that weird adapty thing. I figure the best bet is to contact Ms. Cleo and bribe her to decrypt it for me. She's sixteen, I'll buy her a car. Or a Wii. Kids like those. And the other brothers and surviving sister Joie are 'normal.' Mother named Sophie, lives in Portland. All of that fits with what Loki told you."

"The fact that he has all of this information, and never took control of Coulson with that staff you talked about, Tony, is pretty indicative that he's telling the truth," Pepper said without looking up from her own device—which Thor remembered was called a "laptop."

Tony picked up a slender, black item that looked a bit like a stick of charcoal but seemed to be made of metal. Twirling it between his fingers, he added, "Here's where it gets interesting. Sophie Valerian of Portland, Maine makes the trip _twice a week_ to New York City. This didn't start until _after_ the battle against the Chitauri."

"What's even weirder," Bruce interjected, "is that she's _not_ going to Xavier's school in Manhattan. She's going to Brooklyn, which is a completely separate part of the city."

Víðarr frowned. "How do you know this? Have you set men to watch her?"

Tony shook his head. "Better. I hacked SHIELD's files, remember? One of the things JARVIS noticed was in their financial records. The government's a bureaucracy; they're notorious for having a boat-load of paperwork and a trail of breadcrumbs—or in this case, a money-trail—Hansel and Gretel could follow blind. Thing is, SHIELD's footing the bill to bring Mrs. Valerian out here twice a week. The question is…"

Thor's eyes narrowed. "The question is, why?

The younger prince nodded. "And where is she going? What is in this…Brooklyn?"

A quick grin indicated Tony's triumph. "That, I _can_ tell you. She's going to SHIELD headquarters. And before you ask, _no_, she is _not_ a member of our least-favorite spy group. She's civilian all the way. Which kinda makes you wonder why they're bringing her in. What do the super-spies want with a cellist?"

"And you have a theory," the Asgardian warrior hazarded. Tony offered a mock-humble shrug and made a face before smirking, though Thor could still see irritation sparking in his eyes.

"Yeah, I got a theory. There's something in the New York SHIELD headquarters that they need Mrs. Valerian involved with, but whatever it is, she can't actually relocate to New York for some reason. Otherwise why burn all this money flying her around? And I've also found out that her house in under twenty-four-hour surveillance from SHIELD. Has been since September tenth, the year before last year."

"The day _after_ the battle with the Chitauri," Bruce interjected. "A few other things happened around then, too. That same day, a salvage crew flew in from Maine, but not the inhabited part. I'm talking the very top, up on the Canadian border near the boreal forests. We're talking back-roads and wilderness. They brought the wreckage of a Chitauri flyer back to the SHIELD base, but they brought it back on _a fighter jet_. And the jet _didn't_ belong to SHIELD."

Tony cut in. "Pepper tracked the make and model of the jet," he said. "It's a private plane, and it's owned—get this—by none other than Professor Charles Xavier."

"What was a Chitauri flyer doing that far away from the invasion site?" Víðarr wondered.

Both mortal men shrugged. "That's what we're still looking into," Tony replied, "but we had enough that we thought we'd invite you all back for a little conference. Another thing. Dr. Selvig, your friend Erik, was relocated to another SHIELD facility in Texas right after you and Loki went back to Asgard. Three other doctors were brought in, ostensibly to replace him since three standard-smart astrophysicists could probably cover the brilliance of one expert, but—"

Pepper cut in. "Are you guys going to let either of them sit down? Ever?"

Tony made a face. "Right. Sorry. Pull up some chairs. Drop the hammer. We've got vodka if you want it. Pretty smooth stuff. Natasha says it's some of the best she could get. A present for Rage-Man over here."

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah, except I don't drink. Anyway," he continued as Thor and Víðarr took seats and Tony poured them glassfuls of the clear alcohol, "three other doctors were brought in. SHIELD's financial records claim they were to replace Dr. Selvig at the New York Base…except they're not astrophysicists."

Thor frowned. He actually knew what an astrophysicist was—a mortal scholar who studied the stars and the rules they lived by. And if SHIELD needed an astrophysicist and they couldn't use Erik for whatever reason, why not use Jane? Instead, they'd turned to scholars in different fields of study. Why? "What are they?"

"They're medical doctors," Tony told Thor. He knocked back the small glass of vodka and added, "I looked them up; Dr. Nancy Taylor, a former diagnostician, specializing in geriatrics and pediatrics, who became a general practitioner; Dr. Henry McCoy, a molecular biologist; and Dr. Pamela Napier, a poisons specialist. All three of them are mutants, but their mutations don't seem to be anything _useful_. Nothing that would help with what Selvig was working on."

Víðarr and Thor exchanged a glance. The younger prince asked, "What are their particular powers?"

"Dr. Taylor's an empathic mind-reader, one of the earliest graduates of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Dr. Napier can poison people by touching them and apparently can tell the future—_sometimes_. Dr. McCoy…has fur," Tony finished lamely. "Blue fur."

"And superhuman strength and prehensile toes," Bruce reminded him. Tony waved that away as inconsequential. Bruce added, "The other interesting thing about them was, they spent the first six weeks of their employment with SHIELD assigned to Xavier's school. The only explanation in the files said something about 'guarding AJ-1/2-DSFVO.' We haven't been able to find out what that is yet."

The two princes digested this information while savoring their drinks. Banner and the Man of Iron just waited, letting them process everything. Finally Thor murmured, "You said Nick lied to us. What did you mean?"

Tony drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out. The triangle of light in his chest glowed brightly, even through the thin black t-shirt he wore. He asked, "Remember when you told us about Loki and Coulson? You said that Loki said Coulson _was_ dead, but that Loki wasn't the one who'd killed him. Remember that?" Thor nodded. He wasn't likely to forget it anytime soon. Tony sucked in another breath and seemed to brace himself. "So, the thing is…I'm starting to think Coulson's not even dead."

Thor's jaw went slack.

Bruce interjected into the ensuing silence, "Think about it. If Loki's stab didn't kill him, what did? We found this, too. Kind of makes you wonder." Banner plucked the Midgardian device out of Tony's hand and touched the screen. A black box appeared on what Thor realized was a screen. When the mortal scientist tapped the screen with his index finger, the image of a woman appeared. Thor recognized her as the SHIELD warrior called Hill. Banner touched his fingertip to the screen again and the image came to life.

"It is this agent's opinion that the deception regarding the Captain America playing cards was necessary to achieve the desired outcome regarding the Avengers Initiative. Did Director Fury hide the truth? Yes. The cards were not in Agent Coulson's pocket when he was killed. The blood on the cards was synthetic. Did it motivate the members of the Avengers Initiative to work as a team? Yes. Did they stop the threat? Yes. Was Director Fury guilty of manipulative behavior? Yes, but the end result more than outweighed the cost, especially given recent events regarding Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh."

Tony tapped the screen again, and the image halted. Furious brown eyes met Thor's troubled gaze. "Nick Fury played Cap and me like a violin when he brought out those cards. We went into that fight pissed and ready to avenge Coulson…and Nick planned that whole little schtick. I can't believe that guy. If he lied about that, even seeing how it screwed with our favorite Capsicle, what else is he lying about?"

Nodding, Thor considered. Loki had been certain Coulson was dead, but at the time, how had he known? Because the remnant from Loki's spell had technically died? The fostered prince had explained that the copy left over from the spell, once what little life remaining in it had faded, would disappear in a dissolution of _seiðr_ and shadow. Fury had to have seen it do so…yet he'd let the Avengers believe all this time that Loki had killed Coulson. Perhaps he'd believed Loki truly _had_ killed the agent, but if so, why not ask about the magic? Fury always asked questions about everything; he was greedy for knowledge. Fury might not have known Loki's strike hadn't killed Agent Coulson, but Thor was willing to wager that he'd known _something_ of worth.

Bruce tapped the screen to begin playing the moving illusion. From somewhere off-screen, another voice—a man's voice this time—made a thoughtful sound before asking, "Agent Hill, do you understand the nature of Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And do you think Director Fury fully appreciates the implications of this project on the inhabitants of this planet?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't think perhaps his…emotions…are clouding his judgment? That he's becoming personally involved to such an extent in the project, that's…isn't that a little unusual? Giving federal protection to civilians tangentially involved, wasting agency funds on transporting these civilians, and all because of the so-called 'emotional needs' of those directly involved? Or the bear? An inappropriate use of SHIELD funding if ever there was one."

On screen, Agent Hill frowned. "No, sir. I don't think Director Fury's judgment has been compromised at all. It's difficult not to feel some sympathy for the people involved in the project. After everything they've been through, it's up to us to make sure they're not exploited. We're working with all new forms of DNA, of medicine, of sheer power, and all of it thanks to these people.

"Looking at it strictly from a combat standpoint, wouldn't you rather have these people on our side? Because rest assured, sir, if we cross the project participants, we won't just be dealing with them. We'll have Xavier and his people on our backs in less than twenty-four hours, and without the Avengers behind us, we'd be toast—to use the vernacular.

"And from a strictly psychological perspective, if Director Fury didn't feel some sympathy, didn't develop some emotional attachment, I would be worried, sir. Under the circumstances. Being too far removed from a situation can be just as bad as being too involved. And the funding for the bear project came out of Director Fury's personal finances."

There came the creak of leather and the rustle of cloth. Then silence that stretched on for several long seconds. Agent Hill didn't so much as twitch. She simply waited, cool gray eyes fixed on whoever was interviewing her. Eventually the interviewer asked, "And what about Agent Coulson, Agent Hill? Do you think _he—_"

"Agent Coulson is not the subject of this interview, sir," Agent Hill interrupted. "What he did on September ninth, twenty-twelve, was necessary and, if you'll forgive me, sir, it was also very brave. He went beyond the call of duty and I will not sit here and let you defame his actions."

"It has been suggested by some that he was working at that time with the man known as Loki Odinson. Circumstances being what they are, especially in light of project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh, you can see where questions might arise regarding his loyalties."

In a voice carved from ice, Hill replied, "Agent Coulson's personal loyalties are also not the subject of this interview. You asked if I thought, given the events of the last eighteen months, whether Director Fury was qualified to remain as head of SHIELD. You have my answer, sir. And Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh doesn't change my mind."

"Yes, but Agent Hill—"

"We're done here," she said with cold finality.

Reaching out, she leaned forward and apparently pressed a button, because the screen went black. Thor sat there staring at it for a few moments, unsure what to think. Finally he raised his eyes to his comrades' faces.

"What is Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh?" He asked softly.

Growling low in his throat like an irate dog, Tony grumbled, "We have _no_ clue right now."

"What _I_ wanna know is, why they suspect Coulson of working with Loki," Banner muttered. To Thor he added, "I mean, no offense, big guy, but your brother stabbed Coulson through the heart. Doesn't sound very partner-like."

Tony tossed his phone onto the side-table next to his chair. Settling his foot atop his opposite knee, he propped his elbows on his thighs, leaned forward, and stared intently at nothing. Only the deep wrinkles in his brow told the Asgardian prince that his friend was thinking, turning over each piece of information in his mind.

"That's the thing, though," Tony murmured. "Isn't it? SHIELD might be sneaky, and they share way too many chromosomes with sewer rats, but they're not stupid. They wouldn't just pull this out of their butts. There's gotta be something that makes them suspect Coulson."

In a flash, Thor remembered Loki's confession. "Because of the teleportation spell, perhaps," the prince said.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Uh…what teleportation spell?"

Quickly and succinctly, Thor explained what his foster brother had told him regarding Chitauri _seiðr_, illusion spells and teleportation spells, and what Loki claimed had happened to Coulson, how he had been transported to the dark world of the Chitauri to retrieve Thea, only to fail. "No doubt," Thor concluded, "the Chitauri killed him when he failed. As he has no powers, no magic, I don't see what use he would be to them. They would have no cause to keep him as their prisoner."

Bruce shook his head. "But how would anyone even know about that? I mean, it's not like he could come back from the dead, travel ten thousand megaparsecs back to Earth, and tell everyone."

"Perhaps he had some means of communicating with SHIELD," Víðarr suggested, but Tony shook his head.

"It doesn't add up. Not perfectly. Man, I hate that. I'm CDO and that kind of stuff drives me crazy."

Thor asked, "See-Dee-Oh?"

From her comfortable looking seat, Pepper explained, "He means OCD. It means he's incredibly strict about details. Like CDO. It's supposed to be OCD, but—"

"But that's not in alphabetical order," Tony grumbled. "And it should be. You know, I'm thinking we'll find out all the really important stuff if we crack open the files on Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh. JARVIS, how's that comin', buddy?"

Seemingly from nowhere, JARVIS replied, "Very slowly, sir. I am approximately seventy-percent of the way through the multiplying firewalls. The defenses around these files are extensive. One might wonder what it is SHIELD is guarding."

"Yeah, they didn't even have this kind of security on the Helicarrier," Tony mused absently. "Wonder what the deal is."

"Tell him about the finances, Tony," Bruce said, nudging the other man before going to a large, white box situated against one wall. He opened it to reveal rows and rows of the little metal cylinders containing the drink mortals called _Diet Coke_. "And the packages and the grocery store."

"Grocery store?"

Tony snapped his fingers. "Right. So like I said, tracked their finances. Follow the money, easy-peasy. And I hacked into their security cameras. Unfortunately they figured me out in about five minutes and rousted me out of their _interior_ cameras, but I've still got eyes on the street-front. They still haven't noticed. Go, me. Using these cameras, I have actually _seen_ Sophie Valerian coming and going from SHIELD headquarters.

"Here's where it gets weird—she's usually carrying a McDonald's Happy Meal toy. It's on purpose, too, because she always holds it up to the camera so the security guy can look at it and make sure it's not a bomb or something. Not just any toys, either. _The baby toys_. And I reviewed the footage for the last eighteen months, ever since she started visiting our bald pirate friend and his crew. On holidays like Christmas and Easter, and on September tenth—the anniversary of her first visit to the base—she has stuff in boxes and she's always carrying wrapping paper."

"Which wouldn't be weird," Bruce interjected, "except she's going to a SHIELD base. Last time I checked, even SHIELD hadn't figured out how to build a nuclear deterrent out of Christmas paper, shiny bows, and McDonald's toys."

"I could do that," Tony said. "If I wanted to."

Bruce chuckled while selecting a silver tube of Diet Coke. He cracked open the seal with a sharp jerk of one finger, making the liquid inside hiss and bubble, and took a sip. "I bet you could. Please don't."

"It could be fun; you never know."

Now the other man sighed. "That's what you said about playing Flag Football in the front lobby after hours with all the executive assistants."

"And you had fun. Stacie was totally into you, man. She's got a thing for guys with glasses. She asked me for your number." Bruce gave him a flat look. "I didn't _give_ it to her. I was tempted, though. Tempted. She's hot for you. You should be happy."

"I'm smiling on the inside," Banner replied. "And we've also seen Mrs. Valerian going out and coming back with stuff from the local grocery store. Why? No clue, since SHIELD should have whatever she needs. And she always triple-bags her groceries so no one can see what she bought."

"So secrety," Tony said with relish, deliberately raising his eyebrows. "They're hiding something, and it's got something to do with Coulson's ex. I just don't know what it is. But you're right, Thor. They _are_ hiding something. And! Here's the big kicker. They have two files, two of the ones JARVIS is decoding right now, that we found in the Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh folder. Guess what the files are called?"

The words spilled from Thor's mouth before he had time to think about them. He didn't know how he knew, or why he was so sure he was right, but the certainty settled in his belly like a lead weight and would not be ignored.

"One is called _Loki_," Thor murmured. Tony and Bruce both nodded. "And the other is called _Althea_."

"Close," Bruce replied. "It's titled _A. Valerian_."

"Gee, I wonder who that might be," Tony said dryly. "Since no one else in that family has a name that starts with A. And that makes me wonder how much of Loki's story—the one you told us—Fury and the rest of the SHIELD goons knew during our fight against the Chitauri…and I really want to know what the heck Project Ay-Jay-One-Slash-Two-Dee-Ess-Eff-Vee-Oh is."

Choosing his words with the utmost care, picking them the way jewelers picked precious stones, Thor asked, "Do you truly think Fury might have known of Thea, of what the Chitauri were using to hold my brother to them…and told no one? Did nothing? Let us fight him, knowing a woman and child were in danger?"

But Tony shook his head and ran a hand through his wiry, black hair again. "No. Fury wouldn't stoop to something like that. Especially if it was Coulson's daughter, which is basically what she was. But you said Loki claims Fury betrayed him. I'm wondering how."

Draining his can of Diet Coke, Banner leaned his forearms against the bar where Tony had set the vodka bottle. Eyeing it with clinical detachment, toying with his spectacles, Bruce said, "What we've got so far is this: we know Althea Valerian was a real person, not someone Loki made up. She disappeared around the time Loki claimed to have met her in the Chitauri dungeons. He's got plausible explanations for nearly everything that happened with _you_, big guy, back in Asgard. Your instincts are saying he's legit. SHIELD's got some suspicious files—"

"Surprise, surprise," Tony muttered. He reached over to pour himself another shot of vodka. "SHIELD being suspicious? No way, man."

"SHIELD's got some suspicious files," Banner repeated, unruffled by the interruption. "They've got a project going on that somehow connects with Coulson, Althea Valerian, her mother, and Loki. And Mrs. Valerian is making suspicious visits to SHIELD's base. Did I miss anything?"

"You forgot that Professor Xavier makes twice-weekly visits on the same day as Sophie Valerian in an armored limo to the SHIELD base," Tony said. "Always arriving before Mrs. Valerian and pulling into the SHIELD underground garage. Which also started—shocker—on September tenth, twenty-twelve."

"The day after the battle against the Chitauri," Thor said. "All of these things, strange enough on their own, coincide with that date."

"But what does it mean?" Víðarr asked.

"It means that something big happened the day after we kicked the Chitauri off our planet," the Man of Iron said. "Something big enough that SHIELD _and_ Xavier and his mutants are involved somehow, but no one told us Avengers. I called Steve once we got all this information together; he hasn't heard jack. Same with Natasha and the Hawk. I figured I'd ask them, since it involved Loki."

Thor tensed. The mortal archer known as Hawkeye and his lady-love were two people Thor did _not_ want appraised of the situation. They had every reason to want Loki dead, and unlike Banner, Stephen, and the Man of Iron, the crown prince of Asgard wasn't certain he could trust them. "What did you tell them?" He demanded.

Tony waved a hand in dismissal. "Just that there might be something of Loki's on the planet that we missed, and asked if SHIELD might know anything about it. I can tell when Natasha's lying. Barton, I'm not sure usually, but just mentioning your brother's name freaks him out. No way is he playing Spy-Boy and keeping a lid on it when Loki's involved. Too much anger. He needs whatever you use, Bruce," he added, smiling at the other scientist.

Bruce shook his head. "I keep telling you, Tony," he said with a laugh, "I'm not on drugs. Not even Valium. Scout's honor."

"Once Boy Scouts hit puberty, the concept of honor is lost on them. It gets replaced by the concept of boobs. So…what's the next step? Loki tell you anything new that you'd care to share with the rest of the class?"

Thor hesitated, then asked, "Do you believe him?"

Both mortals exchanged a charged glance, then sighed. "Believe him?" Tony echoed. "I don't know. I don't know what to believe. The guy invades my planet with his alien army wearing a dorky Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer helmet—which I personally find insulting—and then kills a friend of mine. At least, I thought he did. Then he tries to take over my brain and, when that fails, throws me out of a window. But then we've got evidence piling up that maybe, just maybe, he's not as nuts as we thought. I don't know how I feel about the whole thing."

"If you're right," Bruce murmured. "If you're right, and Loki did everything he did because the Chitauri were going to murder his wife and his daughter…I don't know. That changes some things."

The Asgardian princes nodded. "Yes," Thor agreed. "It changes a great deal."

"Cracked the code and found the address, Tony," Pepper suddenly chimed, grinning. "It's in a sparsely-populated suburb of Portland, just before you hit the coast. Twenty-three-twenty-one Phoenix Down Avenue. Weird name. Sorry it took so long. The file with her actual address was triple-encrypted or something, but I managed to get through. Wow, you're right. The house is under heavy, _heavy_ guard. There's at least eight SHIELD agents outside at all times." Pepper frowned, staring at the laptop. "Why so many? This is one of the most peaceful neighborhoods in Portland and they've got it surrounded like it's Fort Knox or the Pentagon."

Tony got up and went over to her, leaning over the back of her chair. His eyes darted back and forth across the softly glowing screen as he read whatever his lady had unearthed.

Straightening at last, he kept staring at the screen. "That is just weird."

"What is it?" Bruce asked.

"Says in the file that Sophie Valerian is being kept under heavy guard because her connection to Althea Valerian—_not_ Coulson—puts her at risk of assault by…extraterrestrial forces. Most likely the Chitauri."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense," Bruce protested. "Unless…you don't think the Chitauri lied, do you?" Everyone turned to him. Folding and refolding the earpieces of his spectacles, he shrugged. "I mean, think about it. A girl with the ability to get inside your head. Scared. Alone. Then gets pregnant with a super-baby spawned by Loki, who's wicked mean with Asgardian magic. That kid would be a pretty hot commodity. What if…" He trailed off, nibbling on the earpiece for a moment before pulling it from his mouth and gesturing with it. "What if the Chitauri lied to Loki about Althea and they still have her? But she won't work with them. So they'd need leverage. Maybe Thea's mom."

Thor jolted. Loki's wife…alive? But if the Chitauri needed outside leverage in order to manipulate her, that could only mean one terrible thing—Sophie was dead, whether Thea lived or not. Otherwise what was to stop the cruel species from using little Sophie against Thea? No mother would be able to stand by while their child was tortured or maybe even killed in front of her.

But if she was alive…if she was _alive_…then he could tell Loki and reunite them. He could…

Tony made a ponderous sound and said, "Maybe. I don't know how we'd find out for dead-sure if she was, though. And how would we save her? We can't just waltz into the Chitauri home-world and…whoa. What is that?"

A shrill whistle pierced the air, lancing Thor's skull like the lethal nails of a murderous rhinemaiden. Beside him, Víðarr hunched his shoulders and grimaced. Tony and Pepper both flinched and clapped their hands to their ears. Sparks shot out of the laptop, scorching the cream-colored rug where they fell. Pepper hastily shoved the laptop onto the floor, brushing and smacking at her skirt to make sure none of the sparks had caught there. Scrambling over the arm of the chair, she hopped off on the other side, keeping the chair between herself and the exploding Midgardian device.

Blaring horns and piercing whistles rent the air. Blinding lights flashed from the laptop screen, sending bone-white light slashing across the walls and Tony's face. Fumbling in the pocket of his blue denim trousers, he shoved a pair of black-lensed spectacles on his face.

"JARVIS," he yelled over the noise. "What's going on?"

"A virus, sir," the computer replied. Tony scowled and yanked the spectacles off his face, glaring at the ceiling.

"Waddya mean, a virus? I've got some of the best firewalls in cyberspace. And whatever that thing was just fried my laptop. Are you serious?" The siren-screams abruptly silenced and the screen went dark. Tony glared at the device. If it had been living, it would have died of fright on the spot. "A virus? Are you kidding? And what is _that?_"

A low pulse of light suddenly erupted from the screen. It flickered, then brightened, bathing the room in a soft, blue glow. Thor, Víðarr, and Bruce approached the thing cautiously. Pepper eyed it with obvious wariness. Tony just stared at it, looking torn between being impressed, furious, and baffled.

On the screen, in frayed-looking letters, were fourteen words.

_Stop investigating Althea Valerian_

_And watch_ Skyfall

_Your firewall sucks like a vacuum_

_Idiot_

All four men and Pepper stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. A strange, electric pulse began throbbing in Thor's veins, sending a charge like sparks of _seiðr_ running through his blood. His instincts prickled. The only reason anyone would warn them off of their search was because…

Víðarr asked, "What is _Skyfall_?"

Tony made a strangled noise and growled, "Among other things, it's a movie where a computer genius opens up a virus on his own computer when he tries to decode an encrypted file. Son of a…he's mocking me, whoever the jerk is who put this on my comp. Good work keeping it contained, JARVIS. If that thing got to the Stark mainframe, we'd be kind of screwed. Nice job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Why would someone go to that much trouble to send a message like that?" Pepper wondered.

"I don't know," Thor murmured, though he was starting to have an idea.

"I do," Tony said flatly. "Because Althea Valerian is still alive…and if she's still alive, then so is Coulson."

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_**Author's Note**__: muahahahaha…everyone cheer! Unless the boys are wrong. Hmmm…what do you think?_


	23. Green as Emeralds and Poison

_**Author's Note**__: yay, another chapter of Darkness! I felt inspired to write and post after starting Agents of SHIELD. Luckily, my beta decided to give the show and chance, and she likes it. Yay! She was pretty mad about Coulson being in it for a while, but now everything's okay. Awesome. And I've discovered I'm old now (I'm 24) because I woke up at around noon today and around 4:30 started feeling like I was going to throw up because I hadn't eaten (I was working on writing stuff and got distracted). When I was 17, I could go 2 whole days without eating with no ill effects. Boo, I'm old. Meh. Anywho, hope you guys like this chapter!_

_For those of you who have complained/commented about Thea and how she's always so perky and why doesn't she freak out more…I think you'll enjoy this chapter and the next, which gives us a look into Thea's perspective and what's going on inside her head, not just what Loki sees when he's around her._

_Remember, reviews equal pants! And pants equal love! Huggles for you all!_

_**Note on Pronunciation**__: Thea's nickname is pronounced "Thee-uh," with emphasis on the "Thee" pronounced like in the word "theocracy" or the name "Theo." Sorry, forgot to add that before._

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**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Green as Emeralds and Poison**

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_Because Althea Valerian is still alive…and if she's still alive, then so is Coulson_.

Alive. Loki's wife was alive.

Thor leaned against Tony's counter an hour later and watched the mortal warrior drape a blanket over Lady Pepper, who lay sleeping peacefully on the sofa. If his brother's wife was alive…what condition was she in? Why hadn't she attempted to communicate with Thor or the other Avengers in an attempt to contact Loki? Was she like Loki, half-mad with grief, haunted by the past? What of their child? Loki had been so sure Thea and Sophie were dead…

"There's no other reason for them to block us out," Bruce murmured, taking a sip from another can of soda. This one was metallic green, decorated with a strange lime-green and yellow symbol and the word _Sprite_. Thor glanced at the polished marble counter, thinking the exact same thing. Why else put up so many defenses around what was clearly Thea's file?

Tony interjected with no little sarcasm, "If Coulson or Thea are dead, then I'm a fluffy pink bunny."

Banner smiled. "Your cottontail's showing, there, Peter Rabbit."

"Bite me. Everybody knows that _Flopsy's_ the pink one. Anyway, the question is, what do we do with this brand new, sparkly pearl of knowledge we've acquired?"

Thor looked up. "We rescue her."

"Not that easy, Point Break," Tony grumbled. "There's no telling if she's where we think she is. If she's with SHIELD, what's the plan? Just walk in there, grab her and the kid, and walk back out?"

"I will not leave my sister in SHIELD's hands. They've proven they cannot be trusted."

Víðarr cleared his throat. "What about the child? How do we know she lives? And if she does, we must consider that she may not be held with her mother. That makes the prospect of retrieving her that much more difficult."

The two mortals exchanged a glance. Banner rubbed at the shadow of beard on his chin and asked, "So…we're not even going to try and talk to SHIELD about this before we barge in with guns blazing? I mean, we need to find out what's going on with Coulson, for one thing. And Althea may not be with SHIELD against her will."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Uh, let's see here. Her husband killed eighty SHIELD agents in two days, stole government property, dropped a SHIELD base like Skrillex with a phat beat, and brought an alien army of fangy mutant xenomorph wannabes to invade New York City. I hate to break it to you, platypus, but the odds of SHIELD not treating her like an enemy are pretty slim."

"Platypus?" Thor echoed. Tony shrugged.

"What can I say? They're both adorable. And have you ever pissed off a platypus? Those things are like little furry rage-monsters with duck feet."

"Yeah, but seriously, Tony, think about it," the so-called platypus replied. "Yeah, Loki's not exactly on SHIELD's buddy list, but Coulson's practically this woman's father. Add onto that, they let her mom visit her once a week. With McDonald's baby toys, which pretty much cements the idea that the kid's alive. How old is she supposed to be, anyway?"

Thor shrugged. "Loki has not yet told me of the circumstances surrounding Sophie's birth. Not very old, however. A toddler at most. Loki had only been missing from Asgard for a year and half when he appeared here on Midgard the day he stole the tesseract."

The Man of Iron muttered something irate under his breath, then added, "A toddler. Great. We have to rescue a toddler being held captive by SHIELD. And you don't know how old exactly this kid is? Is she walking? Talking? If we tell her to keep quiet while we're sneaking around the building trying to find her mom or the exit, will she listen to us? You don't know any of this stuff?"

"It is harder than you can possibly understand," Thor growled, "for my brother to even speak her name, much less give me details about her. Every time he hears or speaks her name or Thea's, he looks as if someone gutted him. You may not care for his pain, but he is still my brother, and I don't know that I would inflict that sort of suffering even on an enemy."

Tony didn't say anything for a few minutes and an awkward silence fell between the four men. Finally, he nodded. "He's, uh…he's pretty messed up about all this, isn't he?"

The Asgardian prince sighed. "Yes. Loki…even when we were boys, he rarely truly connected with anyone. His list of friends even before what occurred between us three years ago was very short. Those he considered his friends meant a great deal to him. Thea meant even more. And they relied on each other a great deal while imprisoned in the Chitauri dungeons." Quietly, almost to himself, he added, "It is little wonder his sanity began to slip when he thought she'd been killed. He committed so many sins he regrets…and to him it seemed it was all for nothing, just as before."

"We gotta talk to Coulson," Bruce said. "He's the only one who knows what happened after Loki got him with that staff. At least, the only one we can trust halfway. And I don't think he'd let SHIELD hold onto his daughter if she didn't want to be there."

"Professor X wouldn't let them hold onto her, either," Tony muttered. "Which makes me wonder why she's there."

Víðarr, who'd kept silent for the most part, spoke up at this. "She may be traveling between SHIELD headquarters and Xavier's school. That shielding we spoke of masks both places."

"Have you seen it anyplace else?"

Both Asgardians princes shook their heads. "But we have not looked, either. If it appears anywhere else," Víðarr said, "we will tell you."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Thor rubbed the back of his neck, discomfited by the late hour. "My friends, we cannot thank you enough for all you've done, but we must get back." Seeing their baffled expressions, the blue-eyed prince hesitated. Under normal circumstances, he would've never even considered sharing this, but he needed Tony and Bruce wholly on his side. They needed to understand what this was doing to Loki. "I am not…comfortable leaving Loki alone for too long."

Dark brows rose. Tony asked, "Has he been trying to escape or something?"

Thor shook his head. "My brother is not beyond reason yet, but his pain makes him…volatile. I've learned over the last nineteen months how to tread with him, but my family lacks my hard-won experience. It would be a cruel twist of Fate if we rescued Loki's wife and child, only for Loki to die before we reunite them."

Bruce bowed his head, staring at the wire-rimmed spectacles he fiddled with. Folding his spectacles, he slipped them into the breast-pocket of his purple shirt and sighed. "That bad, huh?" Thor nodded. "Okay. We'll get back to decrypting those SHIELD files."

"What are you gonna tell the Rock of Ages when you get home?" Tony asked, pouring himself another drink.

"The truth," Thor replied. "That is what he's given me, after all." But the crown prince knew his foster brother wouldn't believe what he had to say. And Thor had no idea what the revelation that Thea was almost certainly still alive, whether Loki believed it or not, would do to Loki…but he couldn't hide something like this from his brother.

What would Loki do?

**.**

The effects of so much _seiðr_ travel were such that Thor's mother took one look at him the next morning and ordered him straight back to bed. He wanted to argue, but he noted the dark circles under Frigga's eyes and her pale cheeks, and so grudgingly acquiesced. His mother had enough to worry about without her second-born adding to her troubles.

He must've been more tired than he'd thought, because he was asleep again almost the moment his head touched his pillow. He woke again sometime the next morning; the extra rest had wiped away all residual queasiness and the headache that had afflicted him the day before.

Thor was in the middle of putting on his boots—he'd kept his brother waiting long enough; besides that, he wanted to hurry up and just tell Loki what they'd discovered on Midgard so he could get it over with—when a knock sounded at his door. Thor called for the visitor to come in. His eyes widened when Hermod and Balder entered the room.

Hermod and Balder—usually referred to as "the twins"—were barely men, having not yet reached the year of their coming-of-age. Despite that, they were both nearly as big as Thor, though a bit slimmer than Tyr. Both fair-haired, the only discernible difference between them was their eyes. Where Balder's eyes were the same pale blue as Tyr's, Hermod's were inexplicably the vivid emerald only one other person in the family could lay claim to—Loki. Thor wondered if green eyes came with an affinity for _seiðr_; Hermod had a natural instinct for battle magic, and nearly every sorceress Thor was acquainted with had either green eyes, or tawny brown eyes like Víðarr's.

They entered the room and took up positions on either side of the door, leaning back against the wall with their arms folded across their chests. Thor just waited. Where Balder was all patience and serenity, Hermod was all flash and fire. Even the crown prince, for whom patience was _not_ a virtue, could outwait Hermod.

"The servants and the guards have been talking," Hermod said at last. Thor finished lacing his boots without replying. "They say Loki was wed to a Midgardian woman. Is that true?"

Straightening up, Thor met his little brother's eyes. "And if it is?"

The twins exchanged a glance. Balder asked softly, "Then why did Loki not speak of this…ever? Why keep it from us?"

"Because he believes she's dead," Thor replied, choosing his words with care. This new suspicion—backed by new knowledge—needed to stay within his family. If Loki overheard anyone speaking of Thea, of the possibility that she was still alive, Thor didn't know what his brother would do. "It pains him greatly to speak of her."

Balder frowned. "_Believes_ she's dead? Then she still lives?"

Thor shot him a look. "Those words do _not_ leave this room, understand me?" Both younger princes nodded. "She may be alive. _I_ believe she is…but I've not yet told Loki. I'm on my way to do so now. You are not to speak of this to _anyone_ except Father, and if you take it to him, you're to make sure no one else is in the room. I do not want this spread around the palace. Loki is fragile enough as it is."

At this, Hermod glanced at his twin brother before looking back at Thor. "They say Loki attempted to take his own life. Is that true?" With a sigh, Thor nodded. The twins' eyes widened. "They also say that you intend to argue for Loki's release."

"No," Thor said. "Not yet. I must have more information." The Asgardian suspected it wasn't safe for Loki to be out from under constant surveillance yet. Not with the Chitauri twisting and warping his thoughts and emotions for their own cruel amusement. If in a fit of _seiðr_-fueled rage Loki harmed someone he cared for—their mother, perhaps—Thor knew that that would be enough to drive him over the edge, and even Thea wouldn't be able to draw him back again.

For that matter, once he and the Avengers managed to rescue Thea and bring her to Asgard, there was really no guarantee she'd be able to help the green-eyed prince come back to sanity at all.

"But you _do_ plan to argue for his release at some point?" Balder pressed. "Why? After what he did to you, to all of us?"

The look the crown prince leveled at his younger brothers was cool and regal. "What he did? What Loki did before his fall from the Bifröst was to protect Asgard. If I can accept that, so should the rest of the family. I've spoken to Father a little, but there is new information I need to present to him. It is up to Father to decide what is to be done about Loki…but I will stand by our brother."

Exchanging another look that seemed to hold a thousand words, the twins nodded. Hermod ran a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair. "What of Midgard? There are rumors Loki was blackmailed into working with the Chitauri and invading that Realm. That the fiends held Loki's wife and…and his daughter prisoner."

Thor chose to answer the unspoken questions with a simple statement. "Sometimes the rumor mill actually reveals the truth."

Balder made a strangled noise. Hermod stared at Thor. "So…so Loki _did_ have a daughter? Is…is she also…does she live?"

"We don't know," Thor confessed softly. "But I pray she still lives, because we will need Thea to heal Loki's mind, and if her child is dead, I do not know that Loki's wife will be capable of helping us. Now that's enough questions. I have to see our brother."

The three warriors stepped out into the hall. Thor turned to stride down the corridor toward the dungeons, but his little brothers called him back. Thor raised an eyebrow.

"Ask Loki…" Hermod began, then hesitated, glancing at Balder. Balder nodded. "Ask Loki if we might visit him at some point."

After a moment, Thor nodded. "I will ask."

**.**

Loki sat at the table in his cell, sketching. Beside the sticks of charcoal, a small stack of blank paper, and the candles, there were three books stacked with their spines facing the window. Two were in English, not Asgardian. _Plato's Republic_. _The Prison Notebooks_. The one at the top had _Proust_ stamped in gold leaf on the spine, and something in a language Thor didn't recognize. A drawing the prince couldn't quite make out lay on top of the books.

At the sound of Thor's footsteps, Loki looked up. Thor was relieved to see that though there was blue in his brother's eyes, they were thin veins of sapphire and not the cobalt blaze that usually accompanied one of the other prince's bouts of suicidal despair and rage.

"Mortal books?" Thor asked, gesturing to the pile. Loki shrugged.

"Thea read them to me. Well, not that one." He tapped the spine of the topmost book. "She always said it was too much of a bother to have the visual memory of the French edition in her mind and try to recite the words to me in English. She didn't speak French; she'd only listened to someone reading the book in her language. So she couldn't simply translate it herself. It was one of the things she struggled with. But she told me I should read it…so I asked Mother to borrow copies of the books from Kvasir."

"Ah."

Kvasir was an Asgardian scholar who prided himself on knowing a great deal about a great many things. His library held scrolls and books from all of the Nine Realm. If there was something a visitor wanted, they needed only to ask, and the book appeared. The library's magic was no surprise; Kvasir's wife _was_ a sorceress. He was also a friend from Odin's youth, and very fond of Frigga.

Loki set the stick of charcoal down and reached out. Thor realized there was another book on the table, hidden until then by everything else. His brother lifted it, turning the tall, slender volume so the crown prince could see the cover, which sported a childish illustration of a boy being yanked out of a small house by a gleeful tiger. "Then there is this."

Thor cocked his head. "What's that?"

"_Calvin and Hobbes_. A series of illustrated stories about a boy and his stuffed tiger, come to life. Thea loved these stories. That's why she named her own stuffed tiger Hobbes." Loki set the book down. Stared at it with clinical detachment that sent prickles tingling along Thor's spine. Loki swallowed audibly. A flicker of blue flashed in his eyes. "She wanted to paint Sophie's room with art from this book. When we escaped. She always talked about it, what we would do when we got away. How we would live in one of the cottages the teachers sometimes used at her school. We would have our own little house. Thea wanted a garden. I wanted a library. She said…she said it would be a good place for Sophie to grow up. She would be with other children like herself, children with extraordinary gifts. She would have playmates who wouldn't shun her for being what she was," Loki added softly.

Remembering what he, Tony, and Bruce had spoken of earlier regarding Sophie's age and birth, Thor asked, "And what was she?"

A small, sad smile curved Loki's thin lips. "My daughter. I remember…remember the first time I laid eyes on her."

The first time he'd laid eyes on her, Thor thought. Not when she was born, but when he first laid eyes on her. That distinction felt important, somehow…

"It was the most incredible thing," Loki continued softly. "I told you she was aware of us, did I not?" He glanced down at the drawing in front of him and sighed. "Because of Thea's gifts, and my _seiðr_. Thea's power of empathy, it…it woke Sophie up somehow. She was aware of herself, of Thea and I, almost from the moment Thea felt her quicken. I could never quite understand how, but…but then…one day, when I returned to our room in the Chitauri fortress…"

**.**

_Loki dropped the accursed staff to the floor the moment he entered the room, not even bothering to throw it this time. More than two months of training in vile Chitauri_ seiðr _under Thanos's Other, and tomorrow the creature had "a surprise" for the disguised Frost Giant. What sort of surprise could it be? Something to do with his training to invade Midgard, that was all he knew. The possibilities sent shards of ice slicing through his veins. What might the blind lieutenant make Loki do?_

_Would he be able to come back to this place at the end of the day, to Thea, and be able to look her in the eyes again? Would he be able to take her in his arms and hold her, or would there be blood on his hands, a crimson wall between them?_

_Did he even dare risk touching her again? After last night…was it safe for them to be together?_

_He'd been caught in some hellish nightmare of Thor, always the favorite in Asgard, always held above Loki by their friends, their other brothers, their parents. Dreamed of Thor humiliating him again and again throughout their childhood and youth. Even now the memories hissed and writhed like snakes in Loki's brain as he thought of Thor, the worthy son, the golden prince. All the times Thor had pushed him, shoved him, hit him, rebuked him, publicly shamed him…they sent black rage pulsing through his blood at the thought of it all._

_And then had come the last of the nightmare. The moment when Thor had knocked him back, out of the Bifröst Gatehouse, to hit the unyielding Rainbow Bridge. Thor had advanced on him, holding Gungnir, Odin's staff. Seeing the disgusted sneer on Thor's handsome face, the hatred in blue eyes, Loki had tried to get up, only to feel the haft of the long golden staff thwack him across the face. Two sharp strikes had broken four of his ribs. Another blow across his knee had shattered something that sent red-hot agony screaming through his suddenly useless leg. He'd fallen to the Bridge, unable to rise. Thor had hit him across the throat, barely a tap compared to the other blows, but it had left Loki choking._

_Then he'd set his foot on Loki's shoulder. The green-eyed prince, lying on his side, had tried to get out from beneath his brother's boot, but Thor had only laughed and watched him squirm helplessly._

_"You thought you could be the worthy son?" Thor had asked, that sneer in his voice. "That Father would ever consider_ you _my equal? You're a fool_, Laufeyson. _And Asgard has no use for fools." And with a savage kick, he'd shoved Loki over the edge of the Bifröst into darkness and void._

_Someone had touched Loki then—a soft hand on his shoulder as he'd cried out at the icy enveloping blackness stealing the very life from his body and freezing the marrow in his bones. He'd jolted out of the nightmare…and Thea had let out a half-muffled scream. Reality had returned to Loki all once, and he'd found himself clutching Thea's wrist hard enough to leave bruises. She'd stared back at him, wide-eyed, before touching his face with her free hand. He'd let her go, only to wrap himself around her and bury his face in the crook of her neck as the fear, grief, and horror had faded away._

_He'd almost hurt her. He_ had _left bruises; he'd seen them that morning before leaving with the Other. Was it safe for Thea to still be with him? What if, the next time he was caught in a nightmare, he_ did _harm her? Her or the baby?_

_"Loki," a soft, toneless voice called, jerking him from his self-recriminations. He focused on Thea, who sat at the synthetic window staring at nothing, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. Ever so slowly, she blinked. She held out her free hand to him. "Loki." Her voice held that empty detachment that meant she was immersed in an illusion. He frowned. Why didn't she step out of it? "Come here."_

_Baffled, dread still breathing like a living shadow along his spine, he went to her. Took her hand in his. The moment her palm pressed to his, her fingers convulsed around his hand. White light and emerald flashed across his sight and she yanked him into the vision._

_Loki blinked and looked about him, trying to figure out where they were. It took him a moment to recognize the clearing where they'd often had countless snowball fights. No snow fell now. Only a faint breeze set the dandelion puffs and wildflowers to waving gently on the wind. Thea sat on a fallen log covered in moss, still clasping his hand._

_"A little warning would have been appreciated," he murmured, trying to shake off the disorientation similar to what came with teleportation. "What was so important?"_

_She pointed. "Look."_

_The prince realized that Thea wasn't looking at him, but at something beyond him. Turning to see what she pointed at, Loki's eyes widened. His jaw went slack. For a long moment, he could only stare at the sweep of meadow grass and flowers, paralyzed by the sight before him. Somehow he managed to wet his mouth enough to whisper, "Is…is this real?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"How?"_

_"I'm not one-hundred percent sure," Thea whispered. Her voice held the same strange note as his. If Loki had to put a name to what he felt in that moment, he would've called it "wonder." Thea came to stand beside him. "I…well…"_

_"Are you doing this?" Loki asked, unable to tear his eyes away._

_"Sort of. I created the…the shell, I guess, but…but that's not me animating it. That's actually_ her. _I felt her. I sensed her and just thought, 'What the heck?' So I pulled her in. And look. Just_ look."

_He looked. He couldn't_ not _look, because the most magnificent thing in all the Nine Realms was before him._

_A baby, with cream-colored cheeks and vivid emerald eyes, sat on the grass a few feet away, watching a ladybug crawl across her chubby palm. Wispy-fine black hair rustled with the breeze. She wore a green linen smock embroidered in gold, damp with baby saliva—no doubt from the bubbles the infant blew so enthusiastically at the ladybug. She couldn't have been more than six or seven months old. When the ladybug fluttered its wings, the baby waved her other hand and squealed happily._

_"Is that truly what she will look like?" Loki whispered._

_Thea squeezed his hand. "I think so. I mean, based on genetics and everything, I think so. I…I feel like that's what she'll look like. Like how I felt she was a girl. She's having a blast over there, too." Thea released his hand. From the corner of his eye, Loki saw her cover her mouth with both hands and make a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "There she is. Look at her, Loki. It's Sophie."_

_Loki covered his mouth with one hand to hold back the strange sound caught in his throat. His eyes stung as he stared at his daughter playing on the grass. When he thought he wouldn't shame himself, he whispered, "She's beautiful."_

_His wife nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she is. Oh, my gosh, she's so beautiful." Thea laughed softly, but a few tears spilled down her cheeks as well. "There she is. Our baby girl." Thea smiled at him. "She has your eyes."_

_"Yes," he murmured. He couldn't take his eyes off his daughter. "Bor's ghost…wait a moment. Is she supposed to be eating that?"_

_Baby Sophie lifted a fluffy white dandelion to her mouth, making an_ aaahhhh _sound as she leaned toward it. Thea waved a dismissive hand. "It's not real, it won't hurt her. And she'll spit it out in a second, watch."_

_Sure enough, Sophie's eyes widened when she stuck the dandelion in her mouth. She waved her arms and shrieked as she tried to shove the wet seed-wisps out of her mouth with frantic flaps of her tongue. Then she let out an ear-piercing scream that had everything in Loki's body tightening with sudden urgency. He took a step forward before realizing he didn't actually know what to do._

_Thea moved ahead of him. Without hesitation, she scooped Sophie up and held her against her chest. "See? That's why we don't eat dandelions," she murmured soothingly. Sophie continued to wail. "Oh, you're fine. It just tastes bad. You're okay." Thea patted Sophie's back as she swayed in place, still murmuring, "I know, it's icky. It's okay."_

_He cleared his throat. "Have you done this before?" At the sound of his voice, his weeping daughter turned toward him. She held out an arm toward Loki and made a plaintive, sniffling sound. He took a step closer. Sophie wiped at her eyes with the back of her other hand and continued to reach for him._

_"Held a baby?" Thea asked. "Lots of times, haven't you?"_

_He shook his head. "No, I mean…this. With her."_

_Silvery-blue eyes widened. "No! I would've told you. I would've brought you here. This is the first time. I mean, I'd been watching her for about ten minutes before you came back, but I just watched her. I wanted to pick her up, but…I wasn't sure if…if I should. You know, because she's not even…not even born yet and she might've freaked out, but…but then I just reacted when she started crying." The crying had slacked off at this point. Now Sophie laid her head against Thea's collarbone, sniffling, one arm draped around Thea's neck. The other arm was still pointed at him, resting across Thea's chest. "This is so…so cool."_

_"May I…" The words strangled in his throat as he gazed at his wife holding his daughter. A swell of emotion rose up within him, warm and sharp and as deep as an ocean; so deep it threatened to drown him. Sophie looked up at him, wet-eyed and beseeching. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "May I hold her?"_

_His wife glanced at him. Smiled. "Do you even know_ how _to hold a baby?"_

_"I…no." But he needed to hold his daughter in his arms. He couldn't just stand back and look at her and not hold her. Loki opened his mouth to explain when Thea stepped close to him. Sophie's green eyes latched onto his face as if she were trying to memorize him. A jolt of lightning shot through him from his heels to the crown of his head. He swallowed with a mouth suddenly gone dry. His daughter shifted in Thea's arms and cocked her head, watching him before stretching out both arms to him._

_"Here," Thea murmured. "Like this." She showed him how to slide one arm beneath Sophie for a seat, how to place his other arm against her back to support her. Under his wife's guidance, Loki managed to hold his daughter carefully against his chest. "There."_

_Loki looked down at Sophie, mesmerized by the brilliant green of her eyes. Soft, wispy curls tickled the hand he held pressed to her back as she leaned her head back a little to look up at him. He couldn't breathe. His heart knifed sideways in his chest as he locked eyes with her, found himself paralyzed under her gaze. Somehow he managed to whisper, "Hello_, älskling."

_She smiled. He thought his heart would burst. One tiny hand reached up to press against his cheek and the breath stuttered in his chest. Sophie burbled at him, patting his cheek. Then she shifted, settling into his arms to lay her head against his shoulder. The tiny mouth opened in a yawn._

_"Someone's sleepy," Thea murmured, laying her head on Loki's other shoulder. He turned just enough to kiss her temple. "I'm not surprised. Babies sleep a lot in utero. Gestating is apparently a lot of work. It's one of the reasons I have to nap so much."_

_Only half-paying attention, Loki rubbed slow circles on Sophie's back. She was warm and soft against his chest, and she smelled like white powder, gentle soap, and the grass she'd been sitting on. Her little arms stole around Loki's neck as she settled more comfortably against him. He closed his eyes as Thea sighed next to him._

This. _This was why he was holding on. Why he was still searching for a way to escape the Chitauri. Why he endured their torturous "training" day after day. For this woman…and for this child._

_"She's beautiful," Loki whispered, pressing a very light kiss to his daughter's hair. "Thank you for showing this to me, Thea. I needed it."_

_His daughter. He had a daughter. He'd known it, understood it, but…but what could compare to_ this _sort of knowing? Knowing in his mind and knowing in his heart, holding his little girl in his arms, were completely different things. Now he'd had a chance to see her, hold her…he had to protect her._

_"I have to let her go now," Thea whispered, wrenching him from his thoughts. "She's tired, but she can't sleep here, in this world. My powers keep parts of her brain active that need rest. She's going to fade out now."_

_It was true. Even as Loki watched, Sophie's form began to shimmer. Loki could see the shadow of grass and his own arms through the fading image of the small body. His daughter just yawned again and closed her eyes. Loki drew a sharp, slicing breath, but Thea laid a hand on his arm as Sophie disappeared completely._

_"She's sleeping," Thea whispered. "It's…it's okay. She just needed to sleep." But his wife's mouth trembled and her eyes filled with tears that spilled unheeded down her cheeks as Thea stared at where their daughter had been but a moment ago. One shaking hand came up to cover her mouth and Thea hastily turned away, hunching her shoulders. A strangled sound escaped her. Loki frowned and touched her shoulder; she twitched away from him._

_"Thea?" Loki gently but firmly turned her toward him. The tears poured down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to sob without making a sound. Stunned, Loki enfolded her in his arms. "Thea, what is it? What's wrong?" The first audible sob crawled out of her mouth. She buried her face in Loki's chest, her fingers twisting in his tunic as she strained to hold in her anguish. Loki laid a hand against the back of her neck, trying to rub away the tension, while his other hand smoothed up and down her back. "Tell me," he commanded softly. "Tell me."_

_The breath hiccupped in her chest as she swiped at her wet face. "I thought I could handle this, I thought everything would be okay, but Phil's not here and we were supposed to escape but I keep getting sick and I don't know what to do, I don't know if I can take this anymore. I can't take this. Ohmigawd, Loki, they're going to take her away."_

_A quick, cold slice of horror mixed with rage knifed through him. "What did you say?"_

_Between sobs, Thea somehow managed to say, "The Chitauri. You know they're not going to let us keep her after she's born. I thought I could handle this, I thought I could stick it out and be brave and not freak out in front of you but then I felt her and I saw her and then she disappeared and she's just sleeping, I know, but she…but they…they're going to take our baby, Loki. They're going to take Sophie away."_

_Loki yanked her tight against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "No," he growled. "No. I won't let that happen." He'd feared the same thing, but had tried to keep his fears to himself. Thea had enough to worry about, what with the physical demands of being pregnant as well as the mental strain of trying to keep his memory together while the Chitauri played with it. He hadn't wanted to frighten her…but it seemed she'd come to the same conclusion he had all on her own. His wife was no fool. She pretended to such silliness, but that was only to ease his heart when he needed it. How long had she feared this? "I will_ never _let them take her. I swear to you, Thea, I won't let those monsters have our child."_

_Thea could only cry into his chest. Cry like a heartsick child until she was exhausted with it. He'd never seen her like this, and it took him a long moment to realize why: except for just after the first time the Chitauri had tortured her, she had never broken down again in front of him, and never like this. She'd always tried to be brave—for him. And now the stakes were too high, and she couldn't hide the mind-numbing terror anymore._

_"I won't let them take our daughter," Loki whispered, stroking her hair. "I promise you_, suetyng. _We will escape from here, I promise. I will do whatever it takes to protect you and Sophie. I promise you. Shhh. Don't cry. It's all right."_

_"Loki…I'm scared." The words were muffled by his shirt, but he heard them clearly enough. "I'm so scared, Loki. What if…what if we never get out of here?"_

_"Do_ not _say that," he commanded, tightening his embrace. "Do not even think it. We will escape, my love. We will. My magic grows stronger every day. Soon we'll be able to leave this place." Thea sniffled and sighed. Loki added, "I love you. You know that, don't you?" She nodded, but said nothing. Tilting his head to press his lips to her ear, Loki murmured, "_'There is a lady, sweet and kind, was never face so pleas'd my mind; I did but see her passing by and yet I love her till I die.'_"_

_As he'd hoped, she laughed softly. It was a poem she'd read to him more than once, because it was her favorite. Turning a wan smile on him, Thea whispered, "Poetry, hot stuff? As if my female hormones stood a chance against you anyway. Well, go ahead. Worship the love goddess with your words. She thanks you."_

_He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb against her smiling mouth. Her smile widened a little more when he murmured, "_'Her gesture, motion, and her smiles, her wit, her voice—my heart, beguiles. Beguiles my heart, I know not why…and yet I love her till I die.'_"_

_Thea sighed and slid her arms around him. "I love you. No other guy has ever shucked his macho-stupid Superman Martian-ness enough to deign memorizing one of my favorite poems before. I'll love you forever."_

_"Forever?" For some reason, the word filled him with a strangling sense of trepidation._

_She nodded. "Forever and ever and ever, until the Apocalypse comes and the universe gets so messed up it rains Lucky Charms and Trix cereal. Always. No matter what." She kissed the line of his jaw, a swift brush of silk-soft lips. "Jeez, I feel better after crying like that. So much better. I always forget how much crying helps. I'm still freaked out but I think I'll be okay until we can get the heck out of here. I desperately need to get out of that stupid room. It's starting to make me feel kinda sick."_

_He frowned, grasping her chin to tilt her face up so he could examine it. Even here, in their illusionary world, she_ was _pale. Her cheeks had thinned out a little, too, despite the food the Chitauri continually supplied. Food from Earth. Loki would examine all the implications of_ that _later. For now, he studied his wife. The skin under her eyes seemed gray-tinged. Lack of sleep? Loki had tossed and turned every night for the last month or so; had that kept Thea from getting as much real rest as she needed?_

_"How long have you been feeling ill?" He asked._

_She shrugged. "Just a couple days. Nothing serious. I just haven't had much energy. And my back's been hurting a little, but I am carrying a basketball around in my stomach. Really, Loki, I'm okay. I just…needed to get all that out. I'm fine."_

_"Thea…I want you to tell me things," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "I want you to tell me when you're frightened, when you sorrow. I want to help you as you help me. Do not keep things from me. It isn't good for you. Or," he added, laying his hand on her belly, "for the baby. Let_ me _take care of_ you _once in a while. Hmmm?"_

_After a moment, Thea nodded. "Okay. Thanks for letting me freak out like that. I needed it."_

_"But you are all right now?"_

_"Yeah. I'm fine."_

**.**

"But she wasn't fine," Loki whispered. Thor swallowed, seeing the lines of strain etched into his brother's face. Loki was pale as death now, with dark circles shadowing his eyes. "I should have realized…but the constant use of that poisonous _seiðr_, and the Chitauri staff…it twisted my thoughts, made it so difficult to think. I should've realized what was happening."

Thor frowned. "What _was_ happening?"

Loki's lips trembled momentarily before he blanked his expression. The only sign of tension was the rhythmic tapping of one finger against the arm of his chair. Without inflection, he replied, "Thea was dying."

"_What?_"

The green-eyed prince nodded. "The Chitauri had begun setting up, readying their little demonstration of just how much I was in their power. It was the Other's idea. If he still lives, when I find him, I will kill him, just for that." With bleak eyes, Loki glanced at Thor before turning to glare at the fireplace. "For gloating about what would happen to Thea if I didn't…if we did not…" He swallowed hard. His long fingers convulsed into a white-knuckled fist. Thor tensed. Whenever Loki spoke of the Chitauri, whenever his anger knotted his hands into fists, he always drew blood.

When Loki didn't speak again, Thor ventured, "If you did not do what, Brother?"

He needed to tell Loki about Thea, the crown prince knew that. Had to tell him that he, the Man of Iron, and Banner had unearthed evidence that Coulson—and thus Althea and perhaps even Sophie—were still alive. But Thor also needed more of Loki's story in order to convince Odin to release Thor's foster brother, and the few times Thor had interrupted Loki and upset him, it had been almost impossible to get him talking again. Telling him that his wife was still alive…the prince had a good idea how his brother would react.

Loki let out a sigh. He draped a finger across his lips, a sign that he was thinking. Thor couldn't help noticing the raw fingernail-beds and scraped knuckles. His brother was a wreck. Wrinkles snarled between his brows as he sat in impenetrable silence. It took everything Thor had not to demand Loki answer him.

"What would you have done?" Loki asked suddenly. "If it were your wife, your daughter? What if it were your precious mortal dying in your arms, with no way to save her except to make an impossible choice? And if you lost her, you would be plunged into darkness, alone, with only your grief and the ghosts of all you'd lost for company to ease that loneliness? And all the while you slowly starved—for food, for water, for light and air and sound?

"They gave me that choice. After watching Thea suffer for days, the Other came to me with his ghoulish smile and his gloating voice, and offered me a choice to save the two people I loved most…"

**.**

_"You must eat a little, Thea," Loki murmured. His wife lay on their bed, propped up by pillows, dull-eyed and listless. Her freckles stood out like gray-dun ghosts against her deathly white skin. Loki sat beside her, holding a bowl of meat broth. He scooped up a spoonful and held it to her lips. "For Sophie. You must eat something."_

_Thea blinked. The movement seemed to take Herculean effort. Then she opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful, swallowing with difficulty. Exhausted from the simple act, she dropped her head to the pillow and closed her eyes._

_She'd barely eaten anything in the last four days. It had been all she could do to get out of bed. When she'd nearly fallen two days before, Loki refused to let her up after that unless he was right beside her…and now she lacked the strength to get up at all. He had to carry her when necessary. Her hair lay in damp tangles on her pillow, strands plastered to her clammy forehead. A low fever burned through her body. The breath wheezed in her throat. And for some reason, the scar on her cheek—which had been paling toward soft pink—had suffused with angry color, marring her cheek like a fresh wound. Spiderlike black veins crept out from the scar across Thea's cheek._

_Poison. Somehow, the Chitauri had poisoned her. When the two of them had taken a bath a few days past, he'd seen the same tiny black lines spreading around a few of Thea's other scars, which had also turned vivid scarlet. But why would Thanos do this? Why hurt Thea now, when Loki had agreed to work with him and the Other?_

_Unless the poison was only to kill Sophie…_

_But Loki's unborn daughter was as healthy as could be expected, considering Thea hadn't eaten. The shields he'd placed around his child were still intact, as well. It wasn't Sophie the poison was targeting, so why…?_

_Loki brought another spoonful of broth to his wife's lips. "Try_, älskling. _You must try."_

_It was an arduous process, getting Thea to eat. By the time it was over, Loki had to wonder if she'd expended more energy than she'd gained from what little she'd managed to eat. Setting the bowl down, he brushed back his wife's hair from her face, then kissed her hand._

_"Loki," she rasped. She swallowed, took a harsh breath. "Sophie?"_

_"She's all right," he assured her._

_A twitch at the corner of Thea's mouth was as close to a smile as she could manage. "Good. Was…worried. She's…not kicking."_

_"She's fine," Loki repeated. And she was…for now. He had no idea how long his daughter could survive with her mother in this state. Or how long Thea could survive. "She's just behaving. Being quiet. We should take advantage. How often will this happen once she's born, hmmm?"_

_Thea tried to laugh and ended up coughing hard, her entire body wracked with spasms. A cold fist gripped Loki's heart as he automatically brought a white cloth to Thea's lips. She coughed wetly until she had to gasp for breath. When he took the cloth from her mouth, it was liberally spotted with crimson. A few flecks of blood stained her lips. _

_"How…bad?" Thea asked._

_"Well," he murmured, desperately struggling to keep his voice from shaking. "It isn't good. But you'll be all right, beloved." He wiped the blood from her mouth. "You've been ill before, and I've always looked after you."_

_Except this time, it was worse. Except this time, there was nothing he could do, and they both knew it. He'd already drained his_ seiðr _to the dregs trying to force the poison out of her body, trying to heal the damage. Nothing he'd done had made a dent. She had only gotten worse. But he had to hold onto the hope that somehow she and their daughter would survive. He couldn't bear to even consider the idea that he would fail in this._

_The door leading out of their room whooshed open with a serpentine hiss. Loki's head jerked up and he stared at the Other, who stood in the entryway watching them. The wretch. The first day Thea had been truly ill, Loki had begged the Chitauri lieutenant for medicine, for a healer, for anything to make his wife better. He'd only laughed in Loki's face and said his "mate" was hardy, good breeding stock, and that she and "the whelp" would survive without any extra help from the Chitauri. It had taken everything in Loki's power to keep from launching himself at the monstrous creature and beating him until blood soaked the ground._

_"Why are you here?" Loki demanded, gripping Thea's hand. She closed her eyes and scrunched her face, trying to block out the sight of the Other. She hadn't the strength to turn her head. "What do you want?"_

_"You thought_ he _would allow you to escape, didn't you? You truly believed that." The Other shook his head. The light flashed on his grotesque teeth. "Lure us into complacency. That's what you intended to do, wasn't it?"_

_Frost crept through Loki's blood. "I have done everything you've asked—"_

_"Yes, but you intended to run from us," the lieutenant snarled. "From_ him. _And we could not allow that. So we gave you…incentive to stay with the Chitauri." Reaching one gnarled hand into his dark robe, the Other pulled out a bottle of black glass. When the light shone through it, Loki could see a deep red fluid gleaming within. "Here is the cure for what ails your mate, Odinson."_

_A tremor shivered through him. He squeezed Thea's hand, out of sight of his adversary, and asked in a cool, detached voice, "Am I to expect you merely mean to give it to me? Just like that?"_

_The Other chuckled, like bones rattling against tombstones. "Just like that. There is a price, of course…but it is your choice whether you will pay it or not." When Loki said nothing, the Other said, "Your mate suffers not from poison, but from withdrawal. Our poison has accumulated in her veins for the last six months, since the day she revealed she carried your child. Three weeks ago, we stopped giving it to her. This," he flicked a dismissive hand at Thea, "is the result. If you want your mate to recover, you have two choices. Give her the antidote or give her this." He withdrew another bottle from the confines of his robe, this one of blue glass filled with a black, viscous substance. "More of the poison. Either will save her life."_

_Loki sneered. "And why would I poison my wife for you?"_

_"Because the antidote will kill your precious child in the womb," came the cold reply. The Other smiled as Loki went white. "And you wouldn't want that, would you? To lose your precious offspring? Of course, you could choose to murder your own child to save your mate. The choice is yours. As for me…I shall see you the day after tomorrow, Odinson, to begin discussing our invasion of Midgard."_

_Without another word, the Other turned on his heel and stalked away. The door slid shut behind him with another hiss of hydraulics. Loki stared at the two bottles on the table, then looked at Thea, who gazed up at him with pleading eyes._

_"Thea…"_

_Somehow she managed to shake her head. "No…antidote. Gimme…the poison."_

_"But…but Thea…are you sure that…" _

_He couldn't go on. He couldn't even begin to fathom how she could've made up her mind so quickly. Because the Chitauri had played them well. They had no way to escape now. He couldn't take her from this place without guaranteed access to the poison, or she would die. But he couldn't give her the antidote, because then Sophie…then Sophie would…But this put them both under the Chitauri's control. Loki had no choice now but to lead the invasion of Midgard and Asgard or the Chitauri could murder his wife and daughter. But Thanos and his army were monsters, brutal killers who slew without remorse. He couldn't just unleash them on his home. On Thea's home._

_He thought of his mother and father. Thought of Thor, and the mortal Thor had grown to love during his exile. He thought of Thea's family, his own brothers. The professor and Eric Lenscher, who were like Thea's surrogate fathers. Phil, whom Thea loved so much. Sif and the Three. They'd betrayed him, yes, but that didn't mean he wanted them dead. And they_ would _die if the Chitauri invaded Asgard. As would his family._

_But if he didn't submit, then Thea and Sophie…Sophie…In the last month or so, Thea had brought Sophie into their world of mirages, a tiny baby crawling about on grass or soft carpet or sand, exploring the world of Thea and Loki's memories. She didn't speak or walk, but she smiled. Oh, her smile…and those beautiful green eyes so full of wonder…And the first time he'd heard her laugh, high and sweet and so happy…he'd been happier in that moment than he'd ever believed possible, and all because of her._

_His daughter._

_Loki couldn't sacrifice his daughter. His little girl. He couldn't. Not his baby girl. How could he?_

Forgive me, Father, _he thought, picturing a look of condemnation on Odin's face_. Mother, I'm so sorry. And Thor…I must do this. She's my daughter. My little girl. I must do this.

_Swallowing hard, he went to the table and retrieved the blue glass bottle. Returning to his wife's bedside, he carefully measured out a spoonful of the black ooze. Held it to her lips. Meeting his eyes, she managed to swallow the spoonful of poison._

_The effect was almost instantaneous. Her eyes brightened, her fever cooled a little, and some color came into her cheeks. The second spoonful only helped, and the third. With every spoonful, her condition improved. With every spoonful, tears fell from her eyes because of what it all meant. But they couldn't lose their daughter. Anything else, perhaps even each other, but not their daughter._

_By the time the small bottle of poison was empty, Thea felt well enough to eat. Loki allowed her a bowl and a half of the savory broth before ordering her to rest. Once she'd fallen asleep—the first real sleep she'd had in at least a week—he lightly laid his hand on the mound of her belly where their child rested._

_"Oh, Sophie," he whispered. "I can only pray that when you grow up, you understand. I'm so sorry, my little one. I'm so sorry."_

**.**

"I had to do it, Thor," Loki said softly. "For my child. I couldn't…I couldn't let them harm her. Not my child."

Thor nodded. "I know, Brother." He didn't know what he would've done in Loki's place. He wanted to think he would have held out against any torture the Chitauri could bring down on him, but in his heart he had to wonder if he could've held on even as long as Loki had. He had no children, no wife to be used against him. In that moment, Loki had had only Thea and Sophie.

"She was so beautiful, Thor," Loki added. A wistful, anguished smile stretched his lips. "So perfect. Finer than any masterpiece. A true gift of the gods. When I held Sophie in my arms, I held Heaven in my grasp. But I never got to hold her in the real world. I never…they killed her. Before she could even be born, they killed her, because the invasion failed." Then he looked at the crown prince with tears in his eyes and said perhaps the most painful, beautiful thing Loki could have ever told him. "She would have liked you very much, I think."

He swallowed hard. "I am sorry that I never…never met her." Before she was even born. That explained why Loki had attempted to make the illusion of Sophie younger and younger, and why he claimed he'd never had a chance to really know her. Thor thought of his brother's green-eyed daughter, and his wife, and knew now was the time to speak up. "Brother, I must tell you something. Something about what we discovered on Midgard."

Loki raised his brows and waited.

"The Man of Iron and Banner, they discovered…a great many things. SHIELD, and Nicholas Fury, are liars. There is evidence that Coulson…that Coulson may yet be alive."

His brother jolted and the color drained from his face. Dark brows furrowed. "He cannot be alive," the pseudo-Æsir stammered. "I sent him to the Chitauri home-world. He couldn't have survived unless he abandoned Thea there, and that, he would never do. He cannot be alive." Then something flashed through Loki's eyes, tightening his face with pain. "Unless…no…"

"We think Thea may yet be alive as well, Brother."

Loki was out of his chair, lunging for the glass before Thor could blink. "Shut up! _Shut up!_ How dare you? Shut up!"

"Brother, listen to me, there is proof—"

"Liar!" Loki roared, slamming his fists against the window with frenetic rage. "Shut up! Stop lying to me!"

"I am not lying—"

An inhuman snarl ripped out of Loki's mouth. "I won't let you use her against me! Shut up! Stop lying! One more word and I'll _kill_ you, Thor Odinson. I'll rip out your heart with my bare hands. How dare you lie to me? About _this?_ Foul-tongued wretch, how dare you? Betrayer. Filthy swine. Get out!"

Trying to shove down frustration and grief, Thor yelled over Loki's snarls, "Loki, _listen to me!_ I mean to bring you proof. I am _not_ lying to you, Brother, I promise you—"

"I am _not_ your brother!" Loki roared. "Shut up! Damn you for this! _Damn you! Get out!_"

"Thor," a sharp voice called from behind him. Startled—he'd been entirely focused on his maddened foster brother—Thor turned to see Víðarr standing at the edge of the pool of light cast by the torches. "Thor, we have to go to Midgard. Now."

Abruptly, Loki fell silent. Thor glanced at him, then focused on Víðarr. "Why?"

"Stark and Banner—they've found Coulson," Víðarr said. A strangled sound escaped Loki. "And Heimdall has discovered something very interesting about that strange _seiðr_ shield."

**.**

The journey to Midgard took less of a toll on Thor this time, but he was still weak-kneed from being sick as he and Víðarr raced to Stark Tower. According to Heimdall, the two Midgardian warriors were waiting with Stephen, the young captain, for the Asgardians' arrival. But that wasn't all the Gatekeeper had had to say.

_That strange_ seiðr _shield surrounds not only Xavier's school and the SHIELD base,_ Heimdall had said, _but a house in a mortal city known as Portland. It is strongest there._

Electric tingles buzzed along Thor's skin and in his blood as he and his brother approached the Tower. The shielding was strongest around a house in the city of Portland. Thea's mother lived in Portland. Coincidence? Not a chance in Muspelheim. Whatever was making the shields—and Thor had a viable guess as to what was doing it—made its home in Sophie Valerian's house. The Avengers just needed to get there to prove it.

To the Asgardians' surprise, the three mortal warriors met them out front, along with Lady Pepper. One of the horseless Midgardian chariots, this one long and black and sleek as a cat, sat in front of Stark Tower. The moment Thor and Víðarr drew close to the group, Tony opened one of the doors.

"Good, you're here. Get in. I'll explain on the way."

"Hey, Thor," Stephen said, offering the prince a friendly salute. Nodding to Víðarr as they climbed into the chariot, he added, "You must be the other brother. I'm Steve. Steve Rogers."

Tony knocked on a blacked out window, which slid down to reveal a man with dark hair and a round face. "Yes, sir, Mr. Stark?"

"Portland, Happy. Hop to it." The dark glass slid back up and Tony turned to the others. "Okay, this is gonna be about a two-hour drive with noon-time traffic, so I'll fill you all in."

"Big stuff first," Bruce broke in. "Main point up front. Oh, and we filled Steve in on everything." The young captain nodded.

Thor raised an eyebrow. "And you believe?"

Steve hesitated, then sighed and said, "I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for now. Until we nail this whole thing down. I want to hear what this Althea has to say about the whole deal."

Bruce added, "Go to it, Tony."

The Man of Iron nodded. "First thing—SHIELD caught me snooping. Whoo-hoo. Big blow to my snooping ego but I managed to wrangle a talk with our not-so-favorite big fat fibber. So Nick knows where we're going and he's going to meet us there; he insisted. Professor Xavier insisted on coming, too. He's promised to keep his mind-reading mental probes out of our brains. Everyone say, 'Yay.' But here's the other thing I managed to do. I managed—with some help from Nick, boo—to get in contact with Sophie Valerian."

Thor stiffened in shock. "And?" He demanded when Tony didn't continue. "What did she say?"

"Well, I told her who I was and said I wanted to talk to her about her daughter Althea, and she said if I did anything to hurt her daughter _or her granddaughter_ she'd shoot me full of buckshot and rock salt, then eviscerate me with a fork."

Steve laughed at this barely comprehensible statement. "Wow. Sounds like you got an admirer, Stark."

With a smile, Tony replied, "Shut it, Capsicle. If she'd gotten a look at my face, she would've been goo. Anyway, she wouldn't talk to me much after that, except to remind me she'd castrate me if I hurt her family. I didn't want to pin all our hopes on that one statement, though, because Thea's sister Joie has a daughter, too. But in the background I heard a little kid laughing. Then Ms. Valerian had to hang up because someone—someone young-sounding—kept asking who was on the phone." He frowned. "At least, I think that's what they were asking. They kept saying, 'Who dat?' I think they meant who was on the phone. Again, could be the sister's kid, not Thea's, but…what are the odds, right?"

The blond Asgardian nodded, feeling slightly stunned. Could it be? Could they really be on their way at that moment to see Loki's wife and daughter?

There was nothing more to say after that, so the ride to Portland was mostly silent, except for occasional comments by one of the Avengers. Thor stared out the window as the world zipped by at incredible speed. No wonder it had hurt so much when the cars hit him during his exile.

"Hey, big guy," Bruce said suddenly as they entered the city of Portland, nudging Thor. "You still talking to Loki?" Thor nodded. "Did he say anything else? Anything we need to know?"

Thor considered for a moment. "Sophie and Thea had a very strong empathic connection, even before Sophie's birth," he said at last. "Thea used that connection to allow Sophie to interact with Loki and Thea in Thea's mirages."

The others stared at him. "Wait, she…she actually could interact with them from inside the womb?" Bruce asked, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on. He leaned forward, eyes intent. "How?"

"Thea gave her a form with which to appear in the illusions," Thor explained. "As a small baby. Six or seven months old, Loki said. For over a month, she spent time with the two of them in Thea's illusionary world. But then…then the Chitauri revealed to Loki what they'd done to her." Quickly he explained what Loki had told him about the poison and how it and the antidote would both affect Thea. "It stole the last of his ability to resist, that connection to Sophie. He couldn't sacrifice her. Not then."

Tony swore under his breath. "I'm glad I don't have kids." Pepper shot him a look. "Not that I don't want any ever," he added defensively, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You'd look great with a cute little Mini-Tony. I'm just saying right now."

"Mmm-hmmm," was all Pepper said.

Banner added, "It could be a Mini-Pepper. You never know."

"If I ever have a kid and it's a Mini-Pepper, I'm dead, because she'll walk all over me, just like her mom."

Everyone laughed except Pepper, who smiled smugly and laid her head on Tony's shoulder. The rest of the ride was quiet until they pulled up in front of a large brownstone house with a wide, green lawn and lacy white curtains. The Avengers and Pepper stood on the sidewalk regarding the two-story home with uncertainty.

"I think this is the place," Steve said quietly. "Look." He pointed to the green and black, flat-looking tricycle on the wraparound front porch, silver and gold streamers popping out of the handles. A plastic S—runic in style, painted gold and green—hung from a chain attached to one of the handlebars. A black cat curled up on the trike seat, hiding from the afternoon sun under the porch awning, eyeing the Avengers with disdain. Next to the flat trike was a small pink bike with training wheels and silver-and-pink pom-poms sticking out of the handles, and a pink plastic A dangling from a chain. "You wanna go first, Thor?"

He nodded and led the way as they approached the white-painted front door. It took him longer than he would've expected to get up the nerve to knock on the door.

The door opened to reveal Special Agent Phil Coulson, wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, socks, and an apologetic smile.

"Hey, fellas. I—"

There was a sudden _crash_ of breaking glass. From inside the house came the high-pitched, terrified scream of a very young child.

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_**Author's Note**__: dun-dun_-DUNN! _Man, I love doing that to you guys. I have discovered that cliffhangers are the way to readers' hearts. They make you guys hate me, but at the same time you're like, "Must read more!" As long as I don't end the fic itself on a cliffhanger, of course. There's a great pin on Pinterest that goes_, "'Oh, we love that you ended your book on a cliffhanger' said no one EVER." _So I won't do that to you guys. But we're not even close to the end of this fic, so that should give you guys the dun-dun_-DUNN! _feeling. So, reviews?_

_Also! The poem Loki quotes in this chapter! You can hear Tom Hiddleston reciting this poem on Youtube. Seriously, go listen to it! So romantic and cool…!_

_And I made a Youtube vid of Loki saying the quote from this chapter to music with some art I've put together for this fic. It isn't great (boo), because I only have the ability to make slide shows right now, but the audio is awesome! You can find it under_ LA Knight _on Youtube!_


	24. A Little Too Late

_**Author's Note**__: I have heard your pleas and decided to be merciful, lol. Just to warn you, though, my beta says this chapter is going to hit right in the feels. Okay? But I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you think, okay?_

_Hugs for all of you!_

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**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**A Little Too Late**

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At the sound of that childish, petrified scream, the Avengers all took a step toward the house. Coulson held up a hand. Over his shoulder, he shouted, "Cleo? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," a girl called from inside the house. "Sophie knocked a bowl off the counter and it freaked her out. It's fine."

Coulson sighed. "I'm not even going to ask why she was on the counter in the first place. Well, come on in, everyone. Thea will be down in a minute." As the Avengers shuffled into the house, Coulson's eyes slid over the group. He frowned when Pepper—the last of them—entered the house. "You didn't bring Loki with you."

Thor frowned. "Bring Loki? The last we knew, he was not welcome on Midgard."

"But you guys were coming to talk to Thea. We thought you would've brought him here with you. I mean…we just thought…crap."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What, we're not cool enough to talk to on our own?"

"It's not that." A woman wearing faded blue jeans at the end of the entry hall offered them a smile. A few streaks of gray threaded through her short, golden hair. Blue eyes shadowed with worry swept across the group before settling on the crown prince of Asgard. She drew closer. "It's only that Thea…Thea's just going to be disappointed, that's all. You must be Thor. My daughter's told me a lot about you. I'm Sophie Valerian, Thea's mother."

The prince took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Lady Sophie. It is good to finally meet you. Forgive us for not bringing my brother. He…is not well enough to travel."

Sophie Valerian nodded, worry wrinkling her brow. "Thea was afraid of that. But your people…the Asgardians…they haven't hurt Loki, have they? Phil said they wouldn't, but Thea's been worried. Specifically about your father and a woman named Sif."

Thor's brows shot toward his hairline. "She's concerned about Sif? Sif wouldn't harm Loki. No one in Asgard would harm him, I swear to you. Certainly not my father."

The Midgardian woman made a noncommittal noise and smiled. "Well, Phil will show you to the front room. I'll go get Thea. You gentlemen won't mind waiting until she comes down to see my granddaughter, will you?" It was phrased as a question, but none of the men present would've dared consider it anything other than an order. Thea's mother walked away.

Coulson heaved another sigh. "Okay. Well, you heard the lady. Director Fury's waiting for us in the front room, anyway. Uh, you must be Thor's other brother."

Coulson held out his hand to Víðarr, who shook it before everyone made their way into the well-furnished living room. Nick Fury sat in a comfortable burgundy armchair, inspecting a framed photograph perched on a wooden side-table. A stuffed tiger sat propped up in a little chair next to his feet. Several plush toys lay scattered across the antique-gold carpet. One of them looked suspiciously like Anthony Stark's gold and red armor. Next to it lay one that looked like Banner when his inner demon slipped its leash.

Bruce stared at the toys for a moment in stunned silence. Kneeling, he picked up the green one. Looked at the white tag sticking out of its side. "I don't believe it," he muttered. Thor thought he seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment. "This is a McDonalds toy. They have McDonalds Hulk toys. And look, Tony, there's one of you."

"That's kinda cool. And kind of weird. How did I not know about this? Pepper, did you know about this?"

She nodded, smiling a little. "McDonalds pays us royalties for every Iron Man toy sold. See what happens when you give up running your company to someone else?"

"Okay," Steve said, baffled. "Why are there stuffed toys of the Avengers mixed in with Dalmatians and…what are those things?"

"Those are Muppets," Nick said, eyeing a stuffed pig—at least, Thor _thought_ it was a pig—with curly blond hair in a pink dress. "Sophie can be pretty creative when she's playing. So, gentlemen, looks like you found us and our hidey-hole…but you didn't bring Loki. Why is that?"

Tony scowled. "I don't think we're under any kind of obligation to tell you anything, Nick. You know, seeing as how you lied to us for over a year about Coulson being dead. Nice of you to rejoin the Land of the Living, by the way, _Phil_. So where've you been? Deep undercover in Latveria? Living it up in the Bahamas? Feeling even a shred of remorse about making your friends think you were dead?"

Coulson sighed and leaned back against the living room wall. "I've been spending the last nineteen months doing missions with my new team, as well as looking after my daughter, who's only managed to hold her life together after being held prisoner and tortured for more than a year by the Chitauri thanks to the presence of my granddaughter. And I got married." A lift of his chin indicated a fairly recent wedding picture hung on the wall. "It was a small, very private ceremony. We weren't going to go through with it after everything that happened, but Thea insisted. Said someone ought to get a happily ever after. But yeah, I've been a little busy trying to take care of my family and trying to convince SHIELD, the US government, and the German government to grant Loki amnesty."

Thor's eyes widened. "Amnesty?"

Nick nodded. "We figured, after everything we've discovered, it was the least we could do. Especially if he agrees to do what Ms. Valerian claims he will—working with the Avengers to find the guy behind the invasion and take him down. Thea claims the Chitauri aren't done with Earth yet. She'd know. And considering what happened last time, we're going to need all the help we can get. Have a seat, gentlemen."

After a few moments where the five men eyed Nick warily, they all sat, except Thor. He walked over to a bookcase along one wall with a few pictures in silver and gold frames resting one shelf. They were of young Sophie—green-eyed, dark-haired, grinning at the camera as she held up a stuffed bear, or watched a hermit crab scuttle back to its sandy hole, or tried to hop like the little frog on the wet sidewalk next to her.

"She's pretty cute, isn't she?" Thor turned to Coulson, who gazed fondly at the pictures. Thor nodded. Coulson added, "She's the only reason Thea didn't lose her mind when we got back. When she found out you and Loki had already left…it just wrecked her."

"Their separation nearly destroyed my brother, as well," Thor murmured. His fingers drifted along the thin books on the shelf, obviously meant for a small child. _Loki Wins the Race. Loki & Thor Retrieve Mjölnir. Loki & Thor Rescue Iðunn of the Golden Apples. Frigga's Magic Spindle. The Magical Rainbow Bridge. Why Loki Became a Seal. Loki and the Mistletoe._ There were dozens of books about his brother, about Asgard, about the Æsir. He wondered how accurate they were. Thor added, "He believes Thea is dead."

"_What?_"

Thor jerked toward the sharp cry and his heart lurched in his chest. He'd never seen this woman's face in any of Loki's drawings, but the moment his eyes fell on her, he knew her. She wore jeans and a green blouse. Her brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail to keep it out of her pale, freckled face. A thin, midnight-purple scar marred her left cheek. Spiderlike veins of that same sickly, dead-looking violet crept out from the scar. Two old, parallel white scars ran across her throat. Silver-blue eyes fixed on Thor and filled with a mixture of hope, fear, recognition, and pain.

"What did you say?" Althea whispered, taking a step into the living room. "He thinks I'm dead?" She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. He sent Phil to get me. Why would he think I was dead?" The silver in her eyes hardened to cold steel as she turned to Nick. "What did you say to him, Nick Fury?" She took a step toward him. To Thor's surprise, the SHIELD director tensed. "I warned you not to lie to me," she said softly. Thor recognized the menacing softness as something his foster brother often used. "Have you been talking to Loki without telling me?"

Nick held up his hands. "Ms. Valerian, I promise you, we've had _no_ contact with Asgard since Thor took Loki back there with the tesseract the day you arrived at our headquarters. You need to trust me."

"Trust you?" Thea scoffed. "After everything you pulled? Not a chance." She pinned Thor with a heartbroken look. "Why does he think I'm dead? Is he all right?" She bit her lip, but added softly, "Why isn't he here?" Beneath the seemingly calm tone, he heard the worry. Of course there was worry. She'd known Loki's mind was fraying when he'd come to Midgard to head the invasion.

Thor stepped away from the bookcase, toward his brother's wife. He'd expected at least a little hostility from her aimed at him, yet she didn't seem to mind him. In fact, she tensed up more when she focused on the other Avengers or Nick than when she looked at the two Asgardians. Thor cleared his throat.

"Sister," he said softly. Thea's eyes widened, seemed to gleam wetly for a moment, then she nodded and smiled.

"Loki said you'd be like that," she murmured. "I guess you're my brother now. As if I don't have enough of you hellions," she added, her smile turning rueful. Thor smiled back. Thea nodded to Víðarr. "And you? Do you feel the same way, Víðarr?"

Víðarr, startled to be addressed by name, collected himself enough to nod. "Of course, Sister. You are my brother's wife and the mother of my niece. Our family claims you as kin."

Thea nodded in acknowledgement, and some of the tension faded from her body. She turned back to Thor. "Why does he think I'm dead?"

Thor replied, "Loki told me the Chitauri lieutenant, the Other, came to him after we'd captured him for the second time and told him that you were dead. That the poison in your veins had killed you and Sophie. When he asked for proof, they showed him the room you had shared and a great deal of blood on the floor. He used his magic to test it. He claimed he felt your pain, your fear. That you couldn't have survived that kind of pain."

She frowned. "But…that doesn't make any sense. What…" She glanced at Coulson, who snapped his fingers.

"When you went into labor," Coulson said. Thea raised an eyebrow. "Kiddo, if you'd been anyone else, you would've been screaming up a storm. And you were terrified."

"Have _you_ ever had a baby while trying to escape from toothy, freaky aliens?" Thea asked, smiling a little still. "And while trying to hold still while your dad defuses a stupid inhibitor collar?" She rubbed her throat, as if she could still feel the weight of the collar that had suppressed her powers for more than a year.

"Okay, quick refresher course." Tony held up a hand. "Let's just clarify. You're Thea." Raising her eyebrow higher, she nodded. "Obviously. So where's Sophie?"

"Hiding out with the professor," Thea said flatly. "She's nineteen months old, she's shy. Plus she nearly fell off a chair and broke a dish, scaring the heck out of herself, after just waking up from her nap. She's not up to being stared at by a bunch of strangers right now."

"If you don't trust Nick—good policy, by the way—why is he here?"

Thea sighed. "He's providing my family and me with round-the-clock government protection. Specifically any anti-mutant jerks who think going after one of us is a good idea, or if someone decides they want to kidnap me or my daughter to use as blackmail against my husband. The world's already seen what he's willing to do to protect us. If anyone ever found out that _that_ was why he helped the Chitauri, how safe do you think we'd be? And I don't have to trust Nick to trust SHIELD. My dad works for SHIELD."

Tony waved that aside. "Okay, next question. Did you seriously have a baby while on the run from the Chitauri? How did you guys even escape if you were nine months pregnant? Weren't you, like, a whale?"

Clearly mortified, Pepper cried, "Tony!"

"What? I'm just saying!"

A corner of Thea's mouth twitched. "Moby preggers, that's me. I wasn't nine months pregnant, though. I was seven months pregnant. Missing two months of baby-growth really helped with the size issue…" She trailed off, glanced at Coulson.

"You might as well tell 'em, Als," he said gently. "They're gonna need the whole story if they're going to believe you, after the Chitauri attack on New York."

She sighed, nodded. "Okay."

She moved to a rocking chair by the window and sank into it. Thor noticed it had been carved out of golden wood with intricate runic designs, including the _Orobouros_, the World Serpent, and an etching that matched the mark on Thor's vambraces—Loki's helmet.

"I was seven months pregnant when the Chitauri forced Loki to lead the invasion. Sophie came two months early. Probably one of the reasons Loki sensed so much fear," she added with a nod to Thor. "I was freaking completely out. I didn't know what was going on, because it wasn't time yet. Or wasn't supposed to be. And Loki had left a couple days before, so I was alone, and couldn't get help, and the poison in my system made everything hurt worse than it should have…"

**.**

_Thea gripped the back of the chair as another cramp tightened slowly at the base of her spine. She tried to take a deep breath, but the dull pain radiating through her back and spreading across her stomach had her lungs in a tight grip, too. Gritting her teeth, she rubbed her belly with one hand, her back with the other. From inside, she could feel soft pulses of nervousness. Sophie wriggled, trying to get comfortable, and Thea squeezed her eyes shut as the contraction tightened, tightened…then slowly released her._

Braxton Hicks, _she thought as her legs trembled_. That's all it is, just Braxton Hicks. It's too early. It's too early, it's just false contractions. I'm okay. We're okay.

_But after seventeen minutes had gone by, another contraction slowly spread from her lower back across her abdomen, squeezing gradually but mercilessly. Thea caught her breath. Her legs threatened to buckle. This couldn't happen now, it couldn't happen yet!_

_The nervousness emanating from within started shifting toward fear. Was Sophie picking up Thea's panic? _

_It only lasted for maybe thirty seconds, but that didn't make Thea feel any better. Somehow she made it back to the bed. Rubbed soothing circles over her stomach with both hands. "It's okay," she said, to herself and to her baby. "It's okay. We're okay." Blindly she reached out behind her and grabbed Hobbes, clutching the stuffed tiger against her chest. "We're going to be okay." It took a few moments for her to lie on her side and draw her knees up as tight to her body as she could. It helped ease some of the tightness in her lower back and stomach. Still smothering Hobbes, Thea pressed her face against the synthetic fur. "We're okay. We're okay."_

_She lost track of how much time had passed, but she managed to keep from panicking by counting the seconds—and thus the minutes—between each contraction. Sixteen minutes…fifteen…fourteen…She wouldn't panic. She wouldn't scream. She wouldn't freak out. Fifteen minutes was okay. Even ten minutes was okay. False contractions could run for a while, as long as they stayed that far apart. Once they got past the ten-minute mark, she'd worry. But that wouldn't happen. Sophie wasn't due for another two months. They were okay._

Loki, _Thea thought, wishing desperately for him. As far as she knew, he'd never delivered a baby, but just having him there would've helped calm her. At least it would have been another pair of hands. Someone to rub her back as the muscles tightened with another contraction. Someone to help her remember how to breathe properly. Someone to tell her how amazing she was. That's what people did with moms-to-be to help them get through the scariness of labor, right?_

_But Loki wasn't there. He'd been sent to Earth by the Chitauri two days ago. Thea had no idea when he'd be back. How long did it take to invade a planet? And would he stick to their plan?_

_In the two weeks since she and Loki had been told by the Other that they'd poisoned her, she and her husband had tried to find a way to escape without letting their daughter die. Loki had tried finding caches of the poison when he was allowed to leave their room; all his searching had turned up squat. In the end, she'd begged him to try and find a way to make people surrender rather than fight. That way fewer people would die in the invasion. And she'd begged him not to use the staff._

_He'd promised to try. That was all she could ask of him. But his mind was so frayed, she didn't know if he'd be able to do it, or if he'd even_ remember _to try. The Chitauri had shredded his memories so badly, and he'd become so…savage. So hateful. He wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with, but that man was still under all of the shadows. She could see him in Loki's eyes, pleading with her to bring him back, to draw him out of the dark. And they'd been working on it, working together to push down what the Chitauri were trying to make him believe. When they were together, he was Loki again, but when they were apart…_

_Loki had come back only the week before, and for the first time in her life she'd been afraid of him. Just for a split-second. Seeing him standing in the doorway, eyes no longer that beautiful green but a cruel, icy blue like the jewel in that stupid Evil Glowy-Stick of Death, her heart had leapt into her mouth. His gaze had landed on her. A smile had curved his mouth…a cruel smile. And he'd come into the room, arrowing straight for where she sat at the synthetic window._

_Even as another contraction twisted through her body, making Thea wince, she could still remember his fingers twisting in her hair, his other hand at her throat. There had been anger in his eyes when he'd looked down at her, fury and lust_—_but no tenderness_—_when he'd kissed her hard enough she'd tasted blood._

_She'd started to cry, yelled, "No!"_

_The blue in his gaze had shattered like glass. The rage in his eyes had faded, leaving only horror and remorse in its wake. Loki had fallen to his knees. Tears had dripped off the edge of Thea's chin to sprinkle Loki's hands when he'd gently cupped her face, swallowed hard, and bowed his head, choking on a sob._

_"I'm sorry," he'd whispered. "Forgive me. Forgive me. I'm sorry_, älskling. _Surtur's blade…what's happening to me?" And she'd held him, pushed through the shadows and the crud the Chitauri were shoving into his mind, and brought him back to her…for a little while._

_Now Thea lay, struggling to get her breath back during a lull in the rising pain, remembering how he'd been so skittish around her after that. So afraid to touch her, be close to her. She couldn't blame him. She'd examined his mind and memories twice to make sure that whatever had twisted him up was gone for the time being, but neither of them had been able to relax until nearly the next morning._

_She would've given anything for Loki to be back now. Anything. Even if there was still that shadow in his eyes, still that anger in him. If she needed him, Thea knew Loki would help her, nefarious alien mind-control notwithstanding._

Loki, I'm scared, _she thought_. I'm so scared. Where are you? I need you. I need you here. Loki, I'm scared.

_She'd read a book on pregnancy and childbirth in college. What had it said? The more freaked out a woman was, the more pain she felt? Well, Thea was plenty freaked out already. What if she was just left here to have the baby all on her own? What if something went wrong? What was she supposed to_ do?

_The doors to her room whooshed open. Thea struggled to sit up, heart slamming hard against her ribs. It couldn't be…could it? Could he be back already? Could he have come back in time?_

_But it wasn't Loki in the doorway. It was a Chitauri soldier. He stepped toward her. Thea looked wildly around, shoved off the bed. Grabbed one of the dishes on the table and held it up. "Get away from me!" She screamed. "Don't come any closer! Get away!" She was_ not _going to let these monsters take her baby. They_ couldn't _have her baby._

_The Chitauri took another step, and another. Thea threw the plate. It bounced of the alien's head and shattered on the floor. She snatched up a glass. Had to fight not to double over as another cramp, stronger than before, snatched the breath from her lungs._

_"I'm warning you! Get away from me_—_"_

_There was a soft_ shp-_sound and the Chitauri stiffened before toppling to the floor. Thea stared at the person standing behind where the dead alien had been seconds before. She dropped the glass, which shattered on the floor. One hand came up to cover her trembling mouth._

_"Phil?" It couldn't be. It couldn't be him. She had to sharply quash the urge to cry, "Daddy!" and run into his arms._

_Phil's eyes scanned Thea from head to foot before jumping back to her face. "Als?" She jolted. He was the only person who'd ever called her that. The Chitauri couldn't have known that, which meant…"Holy…you're pregnant. You…you're_ pregnant." _He stepped over the Chitauri corpse and holstered his gun. He yanked her into his arms. "Als! Me and your mom have been worried sick. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" He brushed the hair out of her face and studied her. "You okay, kiddo?"_

_She tried to say something, tried to ask him how he'd gotten there, how he'd found her, had he seen Loki, was Loki still alive_, anything…_but all she could do was burst into tears and bury her face in his shoulder. Phil hugged her tightly._

_"Hey, it's okay now, kiddo. I'm here, I found you. We're gonna get out of here, okay? It's okay now." He let her cry for maybe a minute, but that was all they could afford. Pulling back, he wiped her eyes with the cuff of his shirt that didn't have blood on it. _

_Thea realized the front of his shirt had a big rip in it, and blood had soaked the fabric. Some of the blood had gotten on her dark green dress. "What the heck_ happened?"

_"It's okay, it's…I'm not hurt. Okay, we gotta get out of here. Do you know your way around this place?"_

_She shook her head. "I've been stuck in here the last six or so months. Before that I was in a cell." She swiped at her eyes, trying to force back tears. "Have you…have you seen Loki?"_

_The fury that swept across his face almost made her recoil. "Did_ he _do this to you?"_

_"Do what? Trap me? No! He's been trying to protect me. He…we…it's complicated."_

_Phil stared at her. "Protect you? Als, what are you talking about? The guy's a grade-A maniac, he stabbed me in the chest with that staff_—_"_

_"He's using the staff?" Thea whispered. Cold swept through her. "No. No, he can't…it controls him, it twists up his mind. He can't use it. He stabbed you? But you said you weren't hurt—"_

_"The wound healed somehow. I can't explain it. Anyway, what do you know about the staff?" Phil asked. "What is going on?"_

_Risking a gamble, Thea touched her fingertips to Phil's temples. "Hang on. Lemme try this." _

_Loki had always maintained that if she used her powers enough, she'd be able to get around the collar. Unfortunately, they'd both realized "enough" would take years of building up her mind. They hadn't had years. But one thing she was pretty sure she could do now_—_she could use her gift without Loki's_ seiðr _to boost it, as long as she was touching someone and kept it to something small (like a memory download)._

_Thea managed to cram the highlights of last year into Phil's mind in approximately thirty seconds, leaving her faintly queasy and no doubt leaving the man who was basically her father with a massive headache. But it made him stop asking questions. Instead, he dragged the Chitauri corpse away from the door so it would close. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a small tool-kit._

_"Why do you have a tool-kit in your suit?" Thea asked as Phil had her sit down. She tensed as a contraction squeezed her body, relaxed as it faded. Twelve minutes apart now. They'd been going on for a few hours at this point. If this was false labor, why hadn't they stopped? Unless this was it. Unless the baby was coming. No, the baby couldn't come now. She couldn't._

My water hasn't broken yet, _she reminded herself_. Until that happens, I'm fine. And even then, things won't pick up until…_Thea thought of the book she'd read, and all the talks about blood. If things were going according to plan, labor wasn't supposed to actually start before she started bleeding. Until that point, the idea had squicked her out. Now it comforted, because it meant Sophie wasn't coming_ yet. _But still…_

_"Phil, I think I might be in labor."_

_He shot her a wide-eyed look. "How far apart are your contractions?"_

_"Twelve minutes," she whispered. "Phil, it's too early. The baby's not due for two months."_

_"Okay," he said, gripping her hands. "Okay. It's okay. Twelve minutes? We got time. Right now we gotta get this inhibitor collar off of you."_

_"How are you gonna do that? Loki couldn't even do it, and he tried a million times."_

_"You ever tried to manually override any of Tony Stark's defensive software?" Phil asked. Thea shook her head as he knelt next to her and examined the collar around her neck. "I have. Used to be a Boy Scout, remember? 'Always be prepared.' In this case, be prepared with some Stark Industries tech."_

_He opened the tool kit and pulled out what looked like a mechanical spider the size of her thumbnail. Laying a hand against her belly as it tightened, Thea bit her lip, while Phil set the thing on the inhibitor collar around her neck. A small shudder of distress emanated on an empathic level from the baby inside her. Thea rubbed her stomach. "It's okay. It's okay."_

_In her own mind, she cried_, I want a hospital! Please, please, don't let there be anything wrong, please. I'm scared. I'm scared. Loki! Loki, I need you. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!

_"Boy or a girl?" Phil asked, snapping her out of her panicked thoughts._

_"What?"_

_"Your baby," he said, gesturing to her stomach. "Boy or girl?"_

_Thea swallowed hard. "A girl. Sophie." If she'd had the time to fully download every memory of the last year, and he'd had time to peruse those memories at leisure, he'd have known the answer…but neither of them had time. She'd given him the bare bones: she was pregnant, Loki was the father, they'd fallen in love while they'd_ both _been imprisoned in the Chitauri dungeons, she'd been poisoned, and most importantly, Loki was being blackmailed._

_Phil nodded. "Beautiful name. Good choice. Okay, hang on…this little bug's almost got that thing off. Then we're getting out of here."_

_She drew a deep breath. "Is Loki still alive?"_

_Another nod. "Last I checked. He was about to drop Thor from thirty-thousand feet, last thing I remember."_

_"That height won't kill an Asgardian," she said, relaxing a little. "Thor's there? Good. He won't let them kill Loki. Thor will protect him."_

_Phil raised an eyebrow. "You act like you know him."_

_She nodded. "I do." As well as Loki once had. Suddenly there was a sharp_ click, _a_ hiss, _and the collar slid from around her neck to fall to the floor. The wall of icy cold darkness that had been erected between Thea's mind, her powers, and the rest of the world suddenly shattered, crumbling to dust. She sucked in a breath and let it out as relief flooded her veins. Her mind hummed with power. She blinked stinging eyes._

_"Better, kiddo?" Phil asked. Thea nodded, wiping a tear away. He smiled. "Okay. Now that you're back online, we're getting out of here, okay? Let's g_—_"_

_"I need that bag," Thea interrupted. "That little one right there." She pointed at a small, green bag on the floor next to the bed. Phil grabbed it and looked inside. A black teddy bear with green eyes and a tiger_—_smaller than Hobbes_—_had been stuffed inside. "Loki made them," she said softly. "For the baby. I want them. And the antidote is in there, too." If Sophie_ was _on her way, she could take the antidote after her daughter was born. If it wasn't time yet, and they escaped, maybe Dr. McCoy could synthesize an antidote that wouldn't kill her baby._

_Phil shouldered the bag. "Okay. Let's get out of here…Als? Als, you okay?"_

_Thea gripped the back of the chair and hunched her shoulders, struggling to breathe as another contraction_—_sharper and stronger than the others_—_ripped through her. Something warm and wet slid down her thighs. Phil's eyes widened. The contraction tightened and tightened until Thea had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming._

_When it finally eased back, she staggered. Phil grabbed her. "Whoa. Okay, kiddo. Your water just broke. We've gotta go_—now."

_"What?" She gasped. "No, it can't…Sophie's not due for two months. My water can't break now. I can't have her now. I'm not ready, I can't." She covered her mouth, trying to stifle a sob. Now wasn't the time to break down. It wasn't. Inside her, she could feel Sophie panicking. And why not? She'd been buoyed up all this time and now Thea's stupid water had freaking broken at the worst possible freaking time and everything was happening too fast_—

_A contraction slammed into her like a fist and she sucked in air, bit her lip until she tasted salt and copper. She couldn't scream. She'd attract the Chitauri and get Phil killed, get herself killed after they took her baby. She couldn't scream._

_"You're bleeding, kiddo," Phil said sharply._

_Thea glanced down. Nausea surged up in her stomach at the sight of the blood pooled on the floor, but she shook her head. "No, it's…it's okay," she gasped, though it didn't_ feel _okay. "That's supposed to happen. I don't know if I can walk, Phil. I don't know…"_

_"You have to. Once you have the baby, we're screwed. We won't be able to run. You've_ got _to move, Thea. For the baby. We can't have the baby here, okay?"_

_She nodded. "Okay."_

_She had no idea how they made it out of the room, through the corridors. Only that Phil drew his gun_—_complete with silencer, which made her wonder vaguely where he'd gotten_ that _from_—_and shot any aliens they ran into on the way. One time, in a daze of pain and panic, Thea watched Phil aim at a Chitauri, pull the trigger…and heard the hammer_ click. _Empty. The Chitauri snarled, striding toward them. Thea sagged against the wall, almost numb with fear, as Phil cursed. She watched him try to reload as if in a dream. Then she looked at the Chitauri._

_From inside her, Sophie's fear welled up and surged outward like a tidal wave. It jolted through Thea, slicing through the haze of pain. Without a thought, Thea lashed out at the Chitauri, shoving the memory of her pain and her daughter's fear into its mind._

_The alien dropped in a twitching, writhing heap. Biting her lip, Thea ripped into the creature's mind, scanning for where she and Phil could go in order to get out of there. When she finally let the alien go, Phil had reloaded his gun. She nodded. He shot the Chitauri in the head._

_"Which way?" He asked, knowing exactly what she'd done; it was what he'd taught her to do, after all._

_With a shaking hand, Thea pointed. "That…way. Hn!" She hunched and sank to the floor, wrapping her body around the taut mass of her stomach. She could feel Sophie's fear. "It's okay," she gasped. "It's okay, Sophie. Phil…"_

_"Come on, Als," he said, getting an arm around her and helping her to her feet. "Come on. We can make it. Do it for Sophie, okay? You can do it."_

_She barely managed to gasp out the directions to where the Chitauri kept their smaller craft. This was what Loki had wanted to do before discovering she'd been poisoned_—_escape their room and get to the hangar where the Chitauri flyers were kept. Steal one. Get away. He would've been able to figure out how the thing worked, but could Phil?_

_He set her down against the wall around the corner from the hangar. Checked the load on his gun. She remembered as a little girl, Phil saying he always carried extra clips because his father had been shot after running out of ammunition. Still, he had to be nearly out. Phil pressed his back against the wall, weapon ready, and peered around the corner. In a flash his gun was up. He fired twice. Ducked back behind the protection of the wall-corner as a blast of blue energy shot past him. Thea squeezed her eyes shut as Sophie squirmed in agitation. She heard Phil fire three more times. Then he was grabbing her, hauling her up again._

_"Can you fly one of these things?" He asked as they made their way laboriously toward one of the scaly, monstrous flyers. Thea stared at it. It wasn't the hulking behemoths Loki had told her were actually_ alive, _and they weren't the little flying motorcycles her husband had learned to use. It was an actual ship. Almost like an escape pod. It was exactly the thing she and Loki had planned on stealing._

_But she had no idea how it worked. And even if she had, Sophie's current panic-stricken womb antics were making it highly unlikely she could've driven an RC car, much less an alien spaceship. Thea shook her head. Phil looked around._

_"Oh, good, that one's not dead yet. Maybe he knows how to fly the thing."_

_Somehow she managed to concentrate long enough to rip the memories of flight control out of the dying Chitauri's head_—_with no finesse at all, leaving it convulsing on the floor as thick, black ichor oozed from its mouth and nose, and leaving herself with a migraine on top of everything else_—_and gently pushed the memories into Phil's head as he dragged open the access door and walked her into the ship._

_Two Chitauri snarled as they raised their weapons. Without blinking, Phil shot them both in the head. He set Thea down on the floor._

_"I'm gonna get us flying, okay?" He grabbed the corpses and managed to drag them to the access door. He rolled them out into the hangar. Shut the door. Hastening to the control panel, he set to work trying to make the thing fly. Thea leaned her head against the wall and focused on trying to_ not _have her baby on an alien spaceship._

_The floor underneath her body began rumbling. A high-pitched whining sound made her teeth throb. She rubbed her belly as Sophie twisted and pain spasmed through her back, tightening through her stomach._

Loki, _Thea thought as a contraction had her gritting her teeth_. Loki, hang on. We're coming. I'm coming. Just hang on. I'll be with you soon, I promise. Just wait.

_._

_The world started to drift away as each contraction became her entire world. The thing that really scared her was, she knew it was going to get a lot worse. She could feel that. Sophie wasn't yet in place to actually be_ born. _It would take actual pushing for that, and Thea had done everything in her power to fight the urge to push. She couldn't have the baby yet. Not yet. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought desperately with her body._

_"Als?" Phil called. Her eyes snapped open to see Phil coming over, kneeling next to her. "How ya doing, kiddo?"_

_A tear rolled down her cheek as she forced herself to breathe through another contraction. "Phil…Phil, I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I don't know if it's safe to do this. Sophie's scared, too. I should be in a hospital, I can't do this here."_

_"Hey, hey." He put his arms around her, rubbed her shoulder. "You can do this, okay? Whatever happens, I'm right here with you. We'll get through this, all right? It's okay. Here, let's get you settled." He helped her up and walked her to the front of the flyer. She realized there was a padded bench along the wall wide enough to lie down on. Phil shrugged out of his blazer, emptied the pockets, and folded it up to make a pillow. Carefully, Thea settled onto her side. "Shouldn't you be on your back?"_

_She shook her head. "It hurts when I'm on my back. Are we going home?"_

_"Yeah. I programmed the thing to take us back to Earth. The coordinates are already in the system," he added sourly, "since they're planning on invading us. Gotta tell you, kiddo, having that alien's memories in my head is pretty strange. Hey." He caught her drifting attention. "Penny for your thoughts?"_

_"Loki," she whispered as another pain ripped through her. "I have to stop him. I have to show him I'm okay. That me and Sophie are okay. Then he'll stop. We have to get to him. I…he's doing this for me. For our baby." Another tear spilled down her cheek. "Phil…Dad…"_

_He sat on the floor next to her, squeezed her hand. "You know, you've never called me Dad except when you were worried about monsters in your closet." He wiped the tear away. "Everything's going to be okay, Thea."_

_"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered. "Have you ever delivered a baby before?"_

_Phil sighed. "No, can't say that I have. But I know a few things from when my mom had my kid brother. So don't push yet, okay? You can't push until you're fully dilated."_

_"How are you gonna know when that is?" She demanded, voice cracking._

_He looked slightly embarrassed when he replied, "I'll check." Seeing her scandalized look, he added defensively, "Hey, by the time I'm going to need to, you'll be so out of it, it won't even faze you, I promise."_

_Thea groaned and covered her face with shaking hands. "I want a hospital. I want my mom. I want…" She sniffled, scrubbed at the fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I want Loki. He should_ be _here."_

_"We'll get to him soon."_

_Phil stayed with her through most of the journey back to Terran space, only getting up to check the instruments. He let her squeeze his hands whenever a contraction hit, and helped her to time them. Things had progressed fairly slowly once Thea got horizontal; for several hours, the contractions maintained eleven-minute intervals. When they made it to Earth, after expertly maneuvering the ship through cosmic void and planetary atmosphere, Phil tried to get his bearings._

_"I think that's Greenland," he said, peering through what was basically the alien windshield. "Which means New York is_—_"_

_"Head for Maine," Thea gasped suddenly, shoving upright. He glanced back at her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face flushed, her lips pinched white. "We can't go to New York in this thing. The military will attack us, with the invasion and everything. We have to go to Maine. The professor is there. He's…" She tried to focus on the voice in her head, tried to block out the pain. "He's calling me; I can sense him there. Hang on, I have to focus."_

Mutant, _she heard softly in her mind. That voice…she knew that voice. The man speaking had been like a father and a brother to her ever since she was five years old. He'd taught her to be proud of her powers, not to be afraid of who she was or what she could do_. Mutant, where are you? I can feel you're in pain. Who are you? I'm a friend. Who are you? You're familiar.

Professor! _Thea sucked in a breath and tried to make herself heard. She didn't have any telepathic gifts, so she had to "shout" in order for Professor Xavier to hear her_. Professor, it's me! It's Thea! Thea Valerian! Professor!

Thea? _She felt his momentary shock, followed swiftly by relief and love_. Thea! Are you all right? You're hurt. How badly are you hurt?

I'm not, _she replied_. I'm in labor. I need help. I'm with Phil, my mom's boyfriend. We're on a Chitauri cruiser. _She pulled the image into the forefront of her mind, felt when he noticed it_. It's a long story. We can't go to New York, but I need help. You're in Canada, aren't you? Near the border with Maine? That's what I'm getting from you.

Can you make it to where we are? I'm with Ororo, Beast, and Logan. Can you make it, Thea?

I don't know, _she thought to him_. I'm scared, Professor. I can't have my baby yet. I _can't_.

What's wrong?

She's early, _Thea said, trying not to freak out all over again_. It's just me and Phil, and I don't know what to do. I'm freaking out. I don't know if she's okay or not.

We will come to you. You can meet us halfway. Land here. _A set of coordinates flitted through her mind. She relayed them to Phil, who nodded and changed course_. We will be there in a few hours. Hold on, Thea. We're coming for you.

Hurry. Please.

_._

_Thea barely managed to bite back a scream as pain dug its claws into her body and tore through her. Her head fell back as the contraction and the pressure on her body eased up and she sagged into Phil and Logan's arms. Gasping for breath, she whispered, "Dad…can I lie down? Please?"_

_"You're almost done, Als," Phil said, holding her tight, supporting her weight. "Squatting makes it easier. I know it's hard."_

_She wanted to snarl at him, wanted to demand how he could_ possibly _know, but then the next savage contraction tried to crush her. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. A scream strangled in her throat. Phil was telling her all kinds of nice things about how brave and strong and amazing she was…but she could barely focus on them as the latest contraction tried to crush her._

_"You're doing great, Thea," a woman's voice said. Ororo. Ms. Munroe, her former history teacher. Thea blinked and managed to fix her eyes on the chocolate-colored face framed by snow-white hair. "You're almost there."_

_"Shouldn't we be doing this somewhere else?" She heard someone ask. Phil? Logan? She couldn't tell._

_A soft, cultured voice said, "She can't be moved. We're monitoring the baby's heartbeat, brainwaves, and emotional responses. This is the best we can do under the circumstances."_

_"Okay, Thea," Ms. Munroe's voice broke through the haze of exhaustion and pain. "It's almost time to push. You can do this. Take a long, deep breath on the next contraction, hold it for a count of ten, and push."_

_"Dad…" Thea whispered. Phil squeezed her hand. "Dad, I can't…"_

_Phil snorted. "Bogus. Remember that time I told you that you couldn't eat an entire pizza in one sitting? And you did, didn't you?" Her mouth trembled into a smile. "You can do this, kiddo." She squeezed his hand tight as the next contraction started to build. "Storm, I think we've got the next one."_

_"Get your breath, Thea. Now hold it, and…push! Come on, push! You can do it! That's a girl! Come on, keep it up, keep it up…good girl. Go ahead and breathe. You're doing great. You're doing wonderful, Thea. Okay, here comes another one. Hold your breath…and…push! Good girl!"_

_She screamed through her teeth as the world phased out around her, until all she could think about was the breath bursting in her chest, then whooshing out of her lungs, and the vicious_ pressure _bearing down on her. Tears and sweat poured down her face as she tried to picture Loki in her mind, tried to imagine his voice encouraging her like Phil was. That was her focus_—_Loki's face, the memory of his voice_—_as each contraction rolled into the next, building and building._

_Finally, when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, when she knew she was probably going to keel over and die, Ms. Munroe said, "Okay, one more, Thea! One more. Big push. Big, big push. You can do it. One more push and you've got a baby, okay? Come on, take that breath. And…push_! Push, _Thea!"_

_"Come on, Als, you can do it! You're almost to the finish. Come on!"_

_One minute there was pain and pressure, a haze of nothing but Ms. Munroe's orders and Phil's cheers as a massive weight threatened to pulverize her…then the pressure eased up abruptly, and she heard it. The shrill, startled cry of a newborn baby. Thea gasped and just breathed for a second as Phil and Logan helped her lie back, half-propped up in their arms. Dashing the sweat and tears from her eyes, Thea got her first glimpse of Sophie._

_Tiny and wrinkled and red with exertion, Sophie's arms flailed and flopped as Dr. McCoy cleaned her up and wrapped her in an emergency blanket. Thea's arms shook as she accepted her daughter; Phil slid his own arms around her, settling them underneath hers to help hold the baby against Thea's heart. Fresh tears rolled down Thea's cheeks as her daughter squalled._

_"Hey, there, Sophie," Thea whispered. Slowly, Sophie's cries began to fade. A tear dripped off Thea's chin and splashed the blanket. Silver-blue eyes darted all over the tiny face, the soft cap of dark hair. Sophie blinked, unscrunching her face enough for Thea to see the vibrant emerald of her unfocused eyes. Thea sensed the baby's fading confusion and distress, felt the upsurge of sleepy contentment and peace as Sophie responded to her mother's closeness and the sound of her voice. "Hey. Remember me? Remember Mama? It's me. It's your mommy. Hi, my beautiful baby. Hello, my sweetheart. My_ älskling."

_Then Thea couldn't stop the tears any longer. They poured out of her as she held her daughter to her chest, as sobs tore through her body. She was crying because Sophie was hers, and because Sophie was safe. Because Sophie was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her life and probably the most beautiful thing she ever would see._

_But she was also crying because Loki wasn't there to share the moment with her._

_._

_The jet-ride from the Maine-Canada border to New York took longer than Thea wanted, but it was faster than going by car. Safely secured in the X-Jet, after being looked over by Dr. McCoy_—_she was so exhausted at that point she didn't care who checked her out or what they did to her, as long as they gave her drugs for the pain and let her hold onto her baby_—_and changing into clean clothes, she reclined in her seat and stared out the window with Sophie in her arms as they sped through the sky. The sun had risen a few hours ago, while she'd been too focused on being in labor to notice._

_The sun. It had been so long since she'd seen the sun. Had Loki been allowed to look at it, see it, savor it? Or had he been forced to hide from the human authorities while he plotted how to invade her planet? Had the Chitauri given him any chance to experience fresh air, warm sunshine? Had he even been able to appreciate it?_

_He'd been using the staff. Why had he been using the staff? They'd agreed that once he made it out from under the Other's direct supervision he'd stop using the creepy thing._

_Thea had tried touching it once. It had sent her mind hurtling through darkness, jagged black claws scraping and rending at her thoughts, lashing her with baseless and terrible fear until she'd dropped the thing, backing away, screaming until she couldn't breathe. Loki had run to her, held her. Rocked her like a child and stroked her hair while they cuddled on their bed._

_She had never touched the staff again._

_Her problem, though, wasn't the staff_—_not at the moment. Though the staff needed to be retrieved by someone who wouldn't be affected by it. Only a couple people who qualified came to mind: the professor and someone Phil had worked with during Loki's initial arrival, a man named Stephen Rogers. Captain America. From all Phil had said, he was a big blue Boy Scout. A real Prince Charming. Maybe he could handle the staff without its dark_ seiðr _affecting him. After all, the professor was stuck in a wheelchair. He could only do so much without the help of his X-Men._

_No, Thea's problem was convincing Phil_—_and Phil's superiors, as well as the rest of the world_—_that Loki had been blackmailed and brainwashed into doing everything he'd done to the Earth. She had to_ prove _it to everyone. Her powers should've made that easy, except that it was documented in the Federal Mutant Registry that she could manipulate other people's memories. They didn't have to believe her just because she showed them what had happened._

_She would need help. The professor had already given her a full mental check-up to make sure her own memories hadn't been tampered with_—_nearly impossible, thanks to her gift, but it never hurt to double-check_—_and to verify the truth of her story. Phil believed her. He and the professor would help. She just didn't know if that would be enough._

_Sophie stirred. Thea blinked sleepily down at her daughter as she scrunched up her face and began fussing. Touching light fingertips to Sophie's temple, Thea plucked the most recent memory from the baby's mind._

_"Hungry again, huh?" She touched her baby's nose, wiggling it. Sophie sneezed. "Come on. It's probably lunch time, anyways." It took a concentrated effort to reach for the bag the professor had given her, which sat on the floor by her seat. She was just so tired…but she wasn't feeding her baby in front of everyone without a blanket thrown over herself. It felt…weird. Like inviting strangers to eavesdrop on a very private, very precious conversation. It had been awkward enough, needing Ms. Munroe to show her how to do it the first time._

_Snagging the extra blanket from the bag, Thea covered Sophie, leaned back in her reclining seat, and closed her eyes. No way could she get a nap right now, but resting her eyes felt good, too, and Sophie's small, warm weight against her body relaxed her._

_A couple hours later, Phil came back to sit next to her. Sophie was asleep again, snuggled in her blanket, tiny hands curled into fists. "Hey, can Grandpa hold her?"_

_"Sure," Thea murmured, handing Sophie over to him. "Phil…why did you and Mom break up?" It had come out during the long, drawn-out conversation on the Chitauri flyer, but she'd been in so much pain, she hadn't thought to ask him then._

_Looking down at the sleeping baby, Phil sighed. "It just…it didn't feel right, not being able to be with her all the time when she needed me once you went missing. She was a wreck. We didn't know what had happened, what those things were that took you, and we couldn't find you. I had all of SHIELD on the lookout. I mean, you're my daughter, Als. I've watched you grow up from the time you were nine years old. I coached your soccer team, drove you on field trips, went to your parent-teacher meetings, took you to concerts. You're my daughter and I couldn't find you…and I couldn't be there for your mother like I should've been when she needed me. She deserved someone who could be there for her."_

_Thea nodded. Yawned. "Okay…so now that I'm back, when are you two getting married?"_

_"Als, it's not that simple."_

_"I just gave you two a granddaughter. I can make it that simple. She's gonna have to move out to New York eventually. You know, since I live there. She always said she would, once one of us had kids. Except Joie went and messed that up by moving to Portland." Thea made a wry face, but smiled. "Whatever. Once Mom's in New York, it shouldn't be that hard."_

_Phil smiled wanly. "We'll see. So, what's Sophie's full name?"_

_"Sophie Frigga Valerian-Odinson, daughter of Loki, son of Odin, son of Bor. Loki said when you do formal introductions in Asgard, it's traditional to go back three generations. We were gonna name her Frigga, but then I remembered that Johnny Cash song about a boy named Sue and decided I didn't want my daughter trying to kill us when she grew up." With a sigh, Thea reclined her seat enough that she could turn on her side. Sitting upright for too long hurt. "She looks like Loki, you know. Except for those little freckles."_

_He nodded, but he looked troubled. Finally, he said, "Listen, Thea. I want you to know that whatever happens when we reach SHIELD headquarters, I'm behind you, okay? I believe you when you say Loki's being controlled. He could have killed me, but instead he sent me to you_—_I'm guessing he wanted me to get you out of there. So I believe you."_

_She didn't break down crying, but only because she was so tired. She just didn't have the energy. Instead, a single tear rolled down her cheek before she closed her eyes. "Thanks, Dad." She'd found out from the professor that SHIELD had had Loki in custody since yesterday afternoon. What had they done to him in that time? Was he all right? "Can you, uh…can you hold onto Sophie for a little bit? I need some sleep."_

_"No problem, kiddo. You just take a nap or something."_

_She dozed for the rest of the plane ride; took care of Sophie while Phil made arrangements for a car; slept while Sophie snoozed in a quickly-bought car-seat as they drove to SHIELD headquarters. The drone of Phil talking on the car-phone helped lull her until his voice suddenly sharpened._

_"Boss, tell me you didn't!"_

_Thea jerked awake abruptly, scrubbing at her face as the car pulled into an underground parking garage. Sophie made a few fussy noises, subsided. Thea glanced at Phil, who'd lost his affable grandfather look and was one-hundred-percent Special-Agent-trying-to-avert-a-SNAFU again. Her stomach suddenly lurched. Something wasn't right. Something was definitely, definitely not right._

_The car pulled into a parking space and Thea quickly got out. Two agents in uniform stood waiting. One of them said, "Ms. Valerian, Agent Coulson, I'm Special Agent Sitwell and this is Special Agent_—_"_

_"Where is he?" Phil demanded. He came around to Thea's side of the car while she unbuckled Sophie from the car-seat and pulled her baby into her arms. "Where's Loki?"_

_The two agents exchanged uncertain glances. Agent Sitwell replied, "Director Fury and Agent Hill are waiting to debrief you. We'll take you to them."_

_As their little group_—_Phil, Thea, Sophie, and Ms. Munroe_—_followed after Sitwell and his partner, Thea kept trying to suppress the spiking fear that something terrible was about to happen. No. Nothing bad was going to happen. She'd escaped from the Chitauri. She was okay. She'd already taken the antidote for the poison and felt better than she had in a while, even though she was still exhausted and sore from the birth. Sophie was healthy. SHIELD hadn't killed Loki. Soon she would be with him, they'd be together again, and everything would be fine. Everything would be perfect._

_But the agents they passed in the halls kept giving her strange looks. Curving herself protectively around her daughter, she focused on Phil beside her and Ms. Munroe on her other side, and kept walking. With the two of them, she'd be fine. They wouldn't let anything happen to her or Sophie._

_Except that Phil was worried. She could feel it._

Loki, _Thea thought as they came to the end of a very long hallway_, Loki, are you okay? Just hold on a little bit longer. I'll be there and you'll see I'm okay. I'm okay, Loki. Me and Sophie are both fine. _A guard in a blue uniform opened the door at the end of the hall, which led to a large room with a massive circular table at its center. Seated on the opposite side of the table was a dark-skinned man with a black eye-patch in a black leather coat and a brunette woman in uniform._

_"Boss," Phil said the moment he caught sight of the one-eyed man. "Boss, tell me you still have Loki in custody. Tell me you didn't send him back to Asgard with Thor."_

_Thea jerked. All the blood drained from her face as her heart knifed sideways in her chest. "What?" She swayed, staggered. Ms. Munroe went to her, took Sophie, while Phil guided her to a chair. She stared at the man she knew to be Nick Fury with horrified, betrayed eyes. "You…what?"_

_Flabbergasted, Nick Fury said, "We sent Loki back to Asgard with Thor this morning. About four hours ago. Why? And Coulson, how the hell did you manage to survive that stab to the chest? And who is this?"_

_"This is my daughter, Thea…the one who went missing over a year ago. She's Loki's wife, and the leverage the Chitauri were using to blackmail him into invading Earth. Her, and Loki's daughter." Phil gestured to Sophie fussing in Ms. Munroe's arms. Nick Fury and the female agent just stared at him, stunned. "You sent him back? Crap. Crap!"_

_"The Bifröst?" Thea managed to croak. The two SHIELD agents focused on her. "Is the Bifröst fixed? Is that how they went back?" If the Rainbow Bridge had been repaired, she could get to Asgard. She just had to call for Heimdall, had to convince him to open the Gate for her. Then she could tell the Asgardians what had happened, both on Midgard and back in Asgard during Thor's exile._

_But Nick shook his head. "They used the tesseract."_

_"Then…" Phil ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Then there's no way to get back in contact with them. No way to bring him back." He looked at Thea. "Als…Als, I'm so sorry, I…"_

_Thea didn't hear him. She simply dropped her head onto her folded arms on the table, sick at heart, and cried._

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_**Author's Note**__: before anyone says anything, yes, all writers are closet-sadists. Be that as it may, I hope you liked the chapter. I hope it resonated. And I hope it gave you a better understanding of Thea. Next chapter will be even better! I hope. We'll see. Let me know what you thought, okay? Hugs!_

_**Some Notes on Babies**__: I did quite a bit of research into childbirth and breastfeeding for this chapter. All this stuff is legit. I swears. As for Thea being uncomfortable breastfeeding in front of people, that is my own personal view. I've always considered breastfeeding to be a very special bonding thing between a mother and a baby (and in a tangential way, the father, if he's there) and not something to be shared with everyone and anyone._


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